Just Another Love Story
by Team Jem Carstairs
Summary: Characters from Clockwork Angel minus Tessa, as there is a new character instead. Belle is a faerie girl, saved by Jem, who is hiding an intriguing secret. T for later chapters. Modern day AU.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is for those who have read Clockwork Angel! Well, maybe you don't need to have read it, but it helps you understand the characters better. You need to know about Shadowhunters and Downworlders, at least. OK, so this is a take on Clockwork Angel, different plot but same characters (except Tessa. No Tessa.) Please review, even if you hate it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the Shadow World, all credit to Cassandra Clare!**

**Chapter: Jem**

Jem stepped outside in the rapidly fading sunlight, calling to Charlotte that he'd be right back. He lifted his pale face to the sun, closing his eyes and breathing in the air. It felt good to just relax, take in the beauty of the city, let go of the Shadowhunter part of him, if only temporarily. The angry _beep beep_ of a car horn brought him back to reality. He wouldn't like to be out too late.

He started down the steps until something caught his eye- a young woman, lying on the pavement. Jem rushed to her side and saw she couldn't have been much different in age from him, maybe sixteen or seventeen. She wore a black dress, her skin white where it was not stained with blood and dirt. Her long black hair was spread behind her, and her eyes were closed. He put a hand to her neck- she had a pulse, though it was shallow and weak. She needed help, and soon. "Will! Charlotte, Henry! Need some help out here!" He was unable to keep the worry out of his voice.

Two people materialized at the door to the Institute, brought running from Jem's shout. The shorter of the pair was a woman in her early twenties, slim and brown-haired, wearing a blue dress and a worried expression. The other was tall and slender but muscular, dressed in black. This only emphasized his light skin, black hair and beautiful blue eyes. He didn't appear to see the girl- he was concerned that something had happened to Jem, his best friend. Jem addressed the woman first. "Charlotte, where's Henry?" She seemed not to hear him for a moment before snapping back to reality. "Oh- in his workshop, I expect, you know how he is."

The boy, meanwhile, had finally noticed the girl. He came down the steps to kneel at Jem's side. "Jem… we can't take her into the Institute. You know that, right?" His voice was firm, but not without compassion. Jem just stared. "What do you mean, can't take her in? She's _dying_, Will, we have to help her! Our duty as Shadowhunters is to protect mundanes!" Will shook his head. "Our duty as Shadowhunters is to kill demons, not save random mundanes. Unless, of course, the two intertwine, as they do sometimes. There is nothing you can do for her, Jem, just accept it."

Jem tried appealing to Charlotte. "We can't leave her, Charlotte. She may not be a Shadowhunter, but look-" he indicated a particularly nasty scratch on the girl's leg- "this looks like the work of a demon. She obviously is important enough to attract the attention of demons, and even if she wasn't, no mundane hospital can treat demon poison. She needs us, Charlotte." As he finished speaking, the girl gave a quiet, rasping breath. She shuddered and moaned a little in pain, though she was still unconscious. Jem stopped talking and looked at her, concern etched on the fine features of his face. Charlotte sighed. "Jem's right, we can't leave her here to die. Take her inside please."

Jem stood and went to pick up the girl. Will shook his head. "Jem… let me." Jem protested. "I found her, I saved her, I can carry her in. I'm fine, truly. You don't care, you would have left her here to die." Will was hurt that his friend thought so little of him, even though what he said was true. It surprised him to see Jem worked up about something- he was normally so calm and even-tempered. Charlotte was quick to speak up. "Jem, please. Just let Will." He didn't like it, but finally agreed.

Will stood up and lifted the girl in his arms- she was light as a feather, though sticky with dry blood. As he carried her up the steps, she opened her eyes, which were large and green as a cat's. She opened her mouth, which was disconcertingly red with blood, and whispered to Will "Thank you… Shadowhunter…" before she lost consciousness once again.

**Next chapter is from the girl's point of view. Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter: Belle**

Belle awoke slowly, her head aching. Her big green eyes fluttered open, taking in the setting around her- white bed, white walls, even the sky outside was a pale gray. She looked down to see that someone had bathed her and put her in pajamas, white, of course. In fact, only one thing broke the monotonous scene. A boy was slumped by her bed, wearing the black clothing of Shadowhunters. Good thing, too- his coloring was so light he might have blended in otherwise. His skin was as pale as hers, and his short hair was a strange, light silvery color. He was not the one, then, the one that carried her into the Institute- that one had black hair, and perhaps a slightly darker skin tone. His head was in his hand, his elbow propped up on his knee. After staring for a moment, Belle decided she really ought to stand up, walk a little. Her injuries appeared healed, and she knew it was no good to stay in bed too long. She tested her weight- seems okay. Until, that is, she really stood up, which was when her legs slipped out under her. Seems they couldn't bear even her light weight.

The crash woke the boy, who was kneeling at her side in a matter of seconds. "God, I'm so sorry I wasn't awake when you woke. Long night, I guess. Can you stand up?" He had a pleasant, light voice that failed to conceal the concern he seemed to feel. She looked up into his eyes for the first time and was shocked to see that they were the same light silver as his hair. He must have seen her face, for he smiled and extended one slender hand, scarred from old runes, to help her up. When she was safely back in bed, she had to ask. "So… who found me and how? How long have I been here, asleep? And are all my injuries healed?"

The boy held up his hand, as if to stop her from asking questions, and smiled again. "Okay, okay, give me a chance to answer. I found you, when I went outside to go for a short walk before dinner. You've been asleep, or unconscious, since then. That is, yesterday. You've only been out for, maybe… ten hours? And yes, your injuries are healed, though the one in your leg was pretty bad. You'll want to wait awhile before trying to stand up again. Do you want some breakfast?" Belle nodded yes, and the boy turned to leave before spinning back around.

"Wait a minute! I haven't even told you my name yet! So sorry, don't know how it could have slipped my mind. I'm-"

Belle finished for him. "-James Carstairs."

He looked surprised that she knew his name. "You can call me Jem, most everyone does. But… how do you know me?"

"I've heard stories of you in… it doesn't matter. They say the silver haired, silver-eyed Mr. Carstairs is to be treated with respect. They say his frail exterior does not detract from his swiftness, strength and agility. They tell tales of his warm spirit, nobility, and compassion. They say he fights with all the ethereal presence of a ghost, but carries the Angel's Marks. He is called Foreigner, though he has lived here some six or seven years. He is rarely without his counterpart and brother-in-arms, Will Herondale. They say he even has the ability to curb young Mr. Herondale's sharp tongue once in a while." Belle finished with a mysterious smile. She loved doing this to people, tell stories about them _to_ them, just to see the looks on their faces.

Jem looked even more shocked at how much she knew about him, when he didn't know anything about her. Which reminded him…

"That was _very_ impressive. You know me far better than I, you. What's your name?"

"I am Belle. Belle Renault," which was when the door slammed open.

"By the Angel," the slim dark boy in the same Shadowhunter clothes as Jem said loudly. "It's hotter than ninth circle of Hell in here."

Jem rolled his eyes. "Nice, just burst in on a sickroom and complain about something. Sometimes I don't know what's wrong with you."

Belle sighed. "Oh, don't mind me, just over here getting over almost dying." The two boys looked over at her, Jem looking slightly guilty, the other boy looking surprised to see her. "And _not_ that it matters," she continued in lofty tones, "but the ninth circle of Hell was cold." She was met by a nod from a Jem, but a blank face from his friend. She sighed again and explained. "In Dante's _Inferno_, Hell was cold and covered in ice." She muttered something about the stupidity of boys in general (at which Jem yelped in protest), and about the stupidity of this boy in particular. Jem looked over at the boy next to him, who had a furious expression and had opened his mouth to say something in reply.

Something told Jem that this would be a good time to break the ice between these two. "Belle, this is-" he began, though he was cut off once again.

"You're Will Herondale," Belle finished.

Will's face softened a tad. He seemed pleased that she knew who he was. "I _am_ pretty famous, aren't I," he remarked, not asking but telling.

Belle rolled her eyes. "Only in Downworld," she retorted.

Will arched an eyebrow. "Am I really?"

Belle began her tale with a kind of joyful malice toward the dark haired Shadowhunter boy. "Everyone knows of the blue eyed Mr. Herondale. He thinks his good looks and scalding wit mean he doesn't have to care, about anything. He hides his troubled past from everyone, even from himself. They say he hates everyone, and would rather spend time with a deck of cards, a bottle of gin, and a few women of loose morals than with his fellow Shadowhunters. Excepting, of course, his _parabatai_, Mr. Carstairs here. They say it is truly frightening to watch him fight. He flies in from nowhere, wielding his seraph blades and looking like nothing less than an avenging angel. They _also_ say he has a peculiar affinity for biting vampires, simply because they do not expect it."

Jem was shaking with silent laughter, tears running down his pale cheeks, while Will stood there, not moving, unsure of what to say. "You… you…" he stuttered, which in itself was rare for Will, who always had a sarcastic comment ready.

Belle smiled none too kindly. "What's the matter, angel boy, cat got your tongue?" Will turned and stalked off, leaving with a flush in his cheeks. Belle called out again. "This was just getting interesting! Where are you going?" Just before the door slammed shut, she heard him answer her question. "I'm going to think of a good comeback!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter: Jem**

Meanwhile, Jem was wiping his cheeks and taking deep breaths. "You just couldn't leave him alone, could you, Belle? You had to just keeping poking him with a sharp stick." He shook his head. "He deserves it, I suppose. It's the same thing he does to everyone else."

He looked over at Belle, now sitting back in bed. She was looking up at the ceiling. "I just… I couldn't help it. First I did it just to see the look on his face, same as I did to you, and then… I couldn't stop. It felt good." Jem took her silence as an opportunity to look at her, really look at her. She looked better after telling off Will. Her pale cheeks had a healthy pink glow, her green eyes were luminous, and the light shined off her long, wavy black hair. Her full lips curved up in a smile. The white cotton of her pajamas hid her willowy figure; she was fine boned, but clearly there were muscles under her smooth pale skin.

Who was this mysterious girl, dropped in seemingly out of nowhere to touch their lives? As a matter of fact, _what_ was she? A mundane with the Sight? A Shadowhunter? That seemed unlikely, as she had no visible Marks. Could she be a Downworlder? That would explain her extensive gossip line connections, and how she ended up at the Institute. Shadowhunters were required by Law to help Downworlders when possible.

Jem was so distracted by these thoughts that he hadn't noticed when Belle had stopped staring at the ceiling and had started staring at him instead, one delicate eyebrow arched and a knowing smile playing on her lips. He blushed, embarrassed at being caught staring, though Belle seemed unfazed. She was very beautiful after all; she was probably used to being looked at. She crossed her arms and laughed, possibly guessing Jem's thoughts. "I can see you, you know." Jem smiled shyly. "Yes, I know. It's why I'm blushing, after all."

Belle considered him, scrutinizing his face with those emerald green eyes of her. It felt like she could see _through_ him, that she knew what he was thinking. Who knows, maybe she did.

"Right now," she said slowly, "you're wondering what I am, mundane, Nephilim or Downworlder." Jem's silver eyes widened. "Wow… how did you do that?"

Belle only laughed, this time at his awe. "Everyone wonders, sooner or later. So what do _you_ think? What am I?" There was a teasing tone to her voice that reassured Jem she wasn't making fun of him.

"I'd hazard a guess at Downworlder. Am I right?"

Belle cocked her head to the side. "Why do you think so?"

Jem considered for a moment. "You seem far too knowledgeable about the Shadow World to be a mundane, but you aren't Marked."

Belle pondered this. "Your logic is irrefutable. You are indeed correct, sir. Now what kind of Downworlder am I?"

Jem thought out loud. "Well, you can't be a vampire. You look like one-" Belle interrupted with a "Gee, thanks." Jem continued. "Well, vampires are pale and lovely, and… and you're both. However, my dearest Belle, this is hallowed ground and vampires are damned. Not a werewolf, because you have no scars. And not a warlock, because you have no demon's mark on you. Therefore leaving only…"

Belle finished for him. "A faerie. Yes, I am."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to all my fans, all... 1 of you? 2, 3, 4? I dunno. Anyway, thanks for reading. Please review, and enjoy! *Special thanks to Herz von Silber, who reads everything I put up here. Love ya. :)***

**Chapter: Will**

Will stormed of to his room after the verbal beating the girl had given him. What was her name… Belle. She took one look at him, sized him up, and turned out to be a worthy adversary. How did she know all that about him? Worse, he didn't even get to make a witty retort. Something about her eyes… they made him freeze up, lose focus. "Damn it, Will Herondale! What's wrong with you?" he asked himself out loud. "I'd say quite a lot, if you're reduced to talking to yourself," said someone behind him. Will whirled around to see Charlotte standing there; he hadn't heard her come in.

"Charlotte! I didn't see you there," he muttered. Any other person might be slightly embarrassed to be caught talking to themselves, but not Will. He had no conscience or sense of shame- Jem provided both for him, as well as a sense of self-preservation. "So, can I help you with anything?" He tried to keep his annoyance for that… _girl_… out of his voice. After all, he was quite fond of Charlotte, and he didn't want her to think he was cross with her.

"Actually, yes," she said. "Have you had a chance to talk to the girl yet?"

"Belle," he corrected automatically, then mentally chided himself. Why should her name matter to them?

Charlotte smiled. "I guess you have, then. So what is she- mundane, Downworlder, or one of us?"

Will looked away. "Actually… I don't know. She didn't tell me. And it wasn't so much a conversation as a battle of wits." _Which I lost,_ he added mentally.

Charlotte seemed disappointed, though not altogether surprised. It was Jem, after all, not Will, who was better with such things anyway. "I know Jem stayed by her bed all night; is that where he is now? With her?"

Will nodded. "Yeah. And I think her injuries are healed, but I don't really know. She was in bed when I got there. She looks better, anyway."

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "Why, Will, I've never known you to care so much for a stranger before. What's changed?" Without waiting for an answer, as she knew she wouldn't get one, she laughed and started for the door, intent on finding Jem for the full scoop. As she was leaving, Will's voice floated past her, quiet: "I don't care about her! Why should I? I don't care," though he sounded uncertain at the end, like he was trying to convince himself.

When Charlotte was gone, Will turned to face the cold, gray sky outside his bedroom window. Charlotte thought he cared for the girl. It was a ridiculous notion, of course, but it didn't stop him from feeling affronted. Which led him again to the thought: _What the hell was wrong with him?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey hey hey, everybody! Thanks for reading! Thanks for reviewing! Love y'all!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belonging to Cassandra Clare, I own nothing. NOTHING.**

**Chapter: Belle**

Belle had to decide what to do, and quick. She was sure that one of Jem's questions was going to be who brought her to the Institute, and she wasn't sure she wanted to tell him. It wouldn't be easy to explain about Riley, she thought, without lying to Jem. And she didn't want to lie to Jem. He was such a nice guy, inquisitive but not intruding, polite and caring. She became acutely aware of Jem sitting there silent, smiling, apparently wanting her to answer a question she hadn't heard.

"Sorry, um, what did you say?" she asked, feeling herself blush.

Jem just smiled wider. "I said, how did you get to the Institute? You were unconscious when I found you, but you couldn't have been out there long. You didn't look as though you could walk on your injured leg… Did someone bring you?"

Here we go. Moment of truth. Belle took a deep breath. "Yes, someone carried me. We were together when the demon attacked, and he took me here. He had to leave, though. His name is Riley."

Jem gave her a strange look. Clearly he was thinking: _What kind of person leaves their dying friend at the steps of a building?_ She sighed. "I know what you're thinking, you know. What kind of friend leaves me to die outside some random building? Well, I can't explain to you now. Let's just say, it is not in his best interests to be seen, particularly by Shadowhunters. He's not a criminal!" she said, seeing Jem's face. "He's just… never mind. I'll explain some other time."

If Jem thought this was an unsatisfactory explanation, he said nothing, just looked at Belle with quiet, respectful curiosity. She was used to people looking at her- she knew she was beautiful, though she tried very hard not to be arrogant about it. She could see him taking in the small details of her- her long lashes, high cheekbones and delicate eyebrows; the curve of her neck, her slender arms and small hands; and, of course, her legs. Unlike many of the others, though, he did not leer or stare openly, as she thought the boy Will might. He merely studied her as one might study a piece of artwork.

"So, is Riley a faerie too?" Jem asked politely.

Belle turned away. "No," she said simply. _Please don't ask me, Jem, please don't ask_, she thought.

He didn't. He just looked into her eyes and nodded. "I know there is something you don't want me to know. I understand. I just hope someday you'll tell me?" He ended hesitantly, on a question, possibly worried she would snap at him for prying.

Belle just sighed. "Someday, Jem. Hey, about breakfast…?"

Jem jumped up from the chair he's been sitting in. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry. Between Will, and my questions, I just forgot. I'll be right back." He slipped out the door remarkably fast. Belle watched him go with a strange feeling inside her. She didn't deserve all the attention she was receiving from the lovely silver Shadowhunter. He seemed so worried about her, but she was fine, really. Still, at least he cared. Unlike Will. Belle was sure Will didn't care about anyone, except possibly himself. Maybe he cared for Jem, though it didn't seem to stop him from treating him like that, like the way he treated everyone else.

_Stop it_, she told herself. _You certainly won't make yourself better by thinking about unpleasant things, and Will counts as 'unpleasant'. Maybe try to get up again…?_

Belle swung her legs over the side of the bed and again went to stand. The thought of _I really never learn_ crossed her mind briefly, which made her smile. This time, though, her legs managed to hold. She managed to limp over to the window, where she collapsed in Jem's now unoccupied chair. She looked out into the cold, gray sky and thought longingly of New York. _It would be beautiful there this time of year. Blue skies, the green of Central Park…_ Lost in memories of her first home, Belle didn't hear the door open and Jem come in. His voice was slightly surprised.

"Belle! You're up! I suppose you can walk now? Unless… you could walk before, you just wanted me to wake up, huh?" She could tell even before looking at him that he was smiling; she could hear it in his voice, and sure enough he was. He held up the tray he carried. "Breakfast."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, everybody! I know this chapter is really short (sorry!) but the next one will be longer, I promise. So, uh... thanks for reading, and please review!**

**Disclaimer: You're bored of reading this, I know, but I own nothing... blah blah Cassandra Clare. Something like that.**

**Chapter: Will**

The heavy wood doors of the Institute closed with surprisingly no noise. _So people can't tell when we are coming and going_, Charlotte had told him once. Will set off for the Devil Tavern, a favorite haunt of his, for gambling and alcohol. He wanted to drink until he forgot who he was. _Wow, who knew you'd overreact to a few comments from this girl,_ the voice of Jem said in his head. He pushed the thought out of his mind. The girl had nothing to do with it. _Nothing._ He went for a drink all the time.

Will's thoughts were interrupted by a voice, floating from one of the many dark alleys branching off from the main road he was on. "Hey, you, Shadowhunter. Come here a minute," the voice said. Will judged it was a boy around his age, though it could have been a trick. He turned with suspicion to his left, squinting in the darkness. It really _was_ a boy, and, with one hand on the seraph blade hanging on his belt, Will cautiously walked over to him.

He was young, no more than sixteen, with messy black hair and big dark eyes filled with concern. His skin was deathly pale because, Will realized with a start, he _was_ dead. _Vampire._

"Yeah, I'm a vampire. I'm out because it's dark over here, but I need to talk to you. That girl you carried in yesterday, that is, last night, is she okay?" The boy was clearly upset.

Will raised an eyebrow. "What business is it of yours?"

"Well, she's my… friend." At the word 'friend", his shoulders slouched, like he'd rather be using a different word to describe the girl. "My name is Riley, I'm the one who brought her here. She needed help for the demon poison, and I- I couldn't help her. She told me to bring her here, and I did. Is she okay?"

Will smirked. "Yeah, she's fine. She was this morning anyway."

The vampire boy, Riley, relaxed visibly at those words. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her. She's my closest friend… Why are you grinning at me like that?"

Will laughed harshly. "Because, vampire, declarations of love amuse me, especially when unrequited." Ignoring Riley's protests, he turned and walked away, now even more intent on getting a drink.

**Anyone who recognizes the last spoken line by Will (^^^up there) gets a personal hug. Let's just say Will is more like his _descendant_ than we realized... Get it now?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Well, here we go. I fully realize tomorrow is Valentine's Day, but I have no intention of writing any special warm-and-fuzzy thing for it. Get over it. Okay, so last time I promised this chapter would be longer... but it wasn't, so here's two chapters in one! Aren't you lucky? I know, I know... no need to thank me. Just doing my job. So here we go! Please review!**

**Disclaimer: I am not nearly talented enough to own what belongs to Ms. Clare, that lucky- anyway, I own nothing.**

**Chapter: Jem**

That night, Jem lay awake in his bedroom, looking out the window at the stars. If only everything was as clear as the sky… pure, simple, dependable. He sighed and turned away. Unfortunately, things can get pretty complicated. Especially feelings. He recalled the conversation he had with Charlotte earlier that day:

Charlotte had found him leaving Belle's room, carrying the now empty breakfast tray.

_Jem,_ she had said, _how is she?_

_Still having trouble walking on her injured leg, but all together fine. She even managed to beat Will at his own game of wits._ He had smiled.

Charlotte seemed uneasy. _I see. So, then, _what_ is she?_

Jem had frowned. Why was Charlotte acting so strangely? _One of the fey. Charlotte, why are you acting like this? Is everything okay?_

She seemed unable to meet his eyes. _It's nothing, Jem. There's no need to concern yourself with-_

_If it concerns her, it concerns me,_ he had said with a fierce protectiveness that surprised even him.

_Oh, Jem,_ she said in a way that meant she knew how much this would hurt him. _Henry and I got a… tip, right before you found the girl, that there may be a rogue warlock in disguise, sent here to spy on the Clave. They even said she had black hair and green eyes, and would tell us she was one of the Fair Folk. I'm so sorry, Jem._

_Who was it?_ He had demanded the answer. _Who told you this?_

_We don't know her name. She was a Downworlder, a vampire in fact, but I don't know the name. I know you trusted her, but-_

_I still trust her. I'm sorry Charlotte, I can't believe you. When I find proof to support these… allegations, I'll agree with you. But until then…_ he looked back at the closed door to Belle's room, imagining hearing her clear ringing laugh, seeing her beautiful smile, listening to the excitement in her voice when she talked to him.

And now here he was, staring out at the cold, diamond sky, wondering what he had done to deserve this. He had just met a wonderful girl, a new friend, who might have one day been _more_ than a friend… gone. Or, at least, she would be, as soon as her leg was healed. Tossed out on the street, or worse, if Charlotte got the rest of the Enclave involved. He had to find out the truth, starting tomorrow, scared as he might be. And then, turning away from the wall that separated him from Will, Jem tried not to cry.

**Chapter: Belle**

"No!" Belle insisted desperately. "I have no idea what you're talking about, I swear it." She was in her room, sitting by the window, being asked questions by a short, slim brown-haired woman. What was her name? Charlotte, that was it. Charlotte had walked in and interrogated Belle about something strange. Apparently, Belle was some sort of rogue warlock sent into the arms of the Clave to spy on them. At least, some angry Downworlder had told Charlotte this.

"I promise that I am not a warlock, and I have no intention to spy on the Clave. I'm only here because my friend brought me to _save_ me from the demon poison boiling in my blood. I do intend to leave as soon as my leg is healed, just so you know," Belle said with only a little resentment in her voice.

Charlotte softened visibly. "Look, I want to believe you, I really do. I don't want to kick you out, but I can't take any risks here, do you understand what I mean?" It was clear that this decision was killing her. Charlotte was the kindest person one could hope to meet, but she had to protect the safety of the Institute first.

Suddenly Belle had an idea. "Magnus Bane!"

Charlotte looked confused. "The warlock? What about him?"

"Take me to him, he'll tell you I'm no warlock. I know for a fact he has helped the Clave in the past, and he can be trusted."

"I- I don't know if-"

Belle was distraught. "Please, Charlotte. Please trust me."

After a moment's hesitation, Charlotte nodded. "Alright. I'll see if he can come tomorrow." She turned to leave, but froze at the door. "And Belle?"

"Yes?"

Still she delayed. "I- Jem is a good person. I hope that you two… Well, I hope you stay friends, no matter what happens tomorrow."

Belle nodded slowly. "I hope so too," she whispered after Charlotte left.

**The Next Afternoon**

Belle was sitting in her room, looking out at the bustling city of London. She was dressed in her own jeans and sweatshirt- that morning she had found her backpack outside the Institute with a note that read: _Belle- Figured you wanted your stuff. Hope I see you soon. Miss you. –Riley. _She had smiled. It was just like Riley to think of something like that; she hadn't even considered getting her stuff, but now here it was, all in front of her.

Someone knocked on the door. When Belle called "come in", the door opened to reveal Charlotte, looking relieved, with a tall, elegant man. _Magnus_. "Magnus Bane," Belle said happily. "Long time no see."

He smiled. "Ah, Miss Belle. I see you really have come to London. Following me, I suppose. How long have you been here?"

"At the Institute? Two days. In London? Two months."

Magnus raised his eyebrows. "And your father doesn't care? Alistair never seemed the type to let his daughter leave without a fight. And to go to _London_! How did this happen?"

Belle looked away. "He died," she said simply and without emotion. Charlotte looked sympathetic and Magnus nodded. "I see. That would explain it, then. I would say I'm sorry, but…"

"But it wouldn't matter. I don't love him, I can't. I don't miss him."

"May I assume that's why you chose to come back to the city he always forbade you to see?"

"Yes."

Charlotte broke in here. "Belle… I'm sorry, for everything. For your father, but also for not trusting you. I apologize. Magnus has assured me that you are trustworthy. I should have listened to Jem…"

Belle looked up, confused. "What did Jem say?"

"He- he told me I should trust you, and that he'd believe you until I had some concrete proof to back me up. Now that I do…" She looked over at Magnus, who bowed his head graciously. "I had to protect the Institute first, do you understand?"

Belle nodded. "I understand completely. And thank you for apologizing. I'll leave as soon as I can."

Charlotte frowned. "Leave? Why would you leave?"

Belle blinked a few times. "Don't- don't you want me to leave?"

"No! You must stay, unless you have somewhere else to go. Do you? And I know that Jem for one wants you here."

"I…" Belle was uneasy. She didn't really have a definitive home, but Riley… "I don't really have somewhere else to go. If you want me to stay, I'll stay. I just have to go out for a few days. I need to- to talk to someone."

"Could they come here?"

Belle laughed. "I'm afraid not. He- er- wouldn't be able to get through the door."

Poor Charlotte was even more perplexed. "Does he have a problem with the Clave, or something like that? I don't suppose he has a quarrel with Will? It wouldn't surprise me…" She sighed.

Belle stood and grabbed her backpack, swinging it over one shoulder. "Thanks for everything, Charlotte, Magnus." She gave Charlotte a quick hug and Magnus a handshake. She hesitated at the door. "In response to your questions… No, and no. But vampires aren't able to come into the Institute, are they?" Without waiting for an answer, she slipped out the door…

…Where she promptly ran into Jem. His eyebrows were raised. "Belle! Where- where are you going?" He faltered, seeing her backpack. Belle smiled. "Out. I'll be back in a few days."

"So Charlotte…"

Belle nodded. "Yep. She talked to Magnus, and she told me I can stay." Without another word, she threw her arms around Jem, who looked surprised, but nonetheless returned the gesture. "I'll miss you, Jem. You've been so kind to me…"

Jem swallowed. "It was nothing. So… a few days? Where are you going?" His attempt at sounding nonchalant was unsuccessful.

Belle smiled. "I have to reassure a… friend that I'm okay."

"Riley?"

"Yes. I'd better go, it's almost dark. I'll see you later, then?"

Jem smiled and nodded. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Belle met no more opposition on her way to the Institute door. With only a quick pang of hesitation, she stepped outside and looked around.

It was then she saw a familiar auburn-haired figure, who smiled and held out his arms. Belle dove into them without any prompting, burying her face in Riley's shoulder. The setting sun made a lovely backdrop against his white skin, and it reflected into his dark eyes. He tousled her hair. "Hey there, angel girl. How you been?"

She smiled happily. "Better than you, Daylighter."

**Yup. Belle knows Magnus. What do you think of that? And yeah, the Daylighter thing... so similar to Simon, but I couldn't help it. It served my purpose, and I LOVED Simon. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**My loves! Here you are, since I know how long you waited for this... at least a week! I wrote this a while ago, just kept forgetting to put it up. So sorry! Please forgive me! Anyway, here you are!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own ID, because if I did, Jem wouldn't be dying and Will would get a happy ending. Thanks a lot, CASSIE.**

**Chapter: Belle**

Belle stepped out of the shower, loving the feeling of being so clean and warm. She had just returned to the Institute after her few days with Riley, and no matter how much she loved being with him, it was nice to be back. She slipped on her pajama pants, but realized she had forgotten her shirt in her bedroom. _Damn it,_ she thought, wrapping a towel around her top half. She ran to her room and opened the door, stepping inside quickly, breathing a sigh of relief that no one had seen her. Wait a minute- there was someone inside the room already, a tall, slender someone who had been facing the window but turned in confusion to see who had entered. Belle's heart skipped a beat when she saw the perpetually messy silver hair and curious eyes of the same hue. _Jem._

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," Belle said, blushing furiously. "I– wrong room. I'll, ah– I'll go now."

Jem smiled, though his face was a similar shade of pink. "Yeah, I– I think your room is actually across the hall."

Belle shook her head. "I must have gotten turned around somehow. I'll– I'll see you later?"

"When you're, um, dressed, you can come back. I mean, if you want. You don't have to, I just thought–"

"I'd like that," Belle said softly, interrupting Jem's rambling.

She ran across the hall to her own room and changed quickly. She decided to take Jem up on his offer, and she walked cautiously back to his room. She knocked softly.

"Come in," Jem called from inside, and she did.

"Sorry about before. I, ah, forgot my shirt in my room when I went to take a shower, and I messed up the rooms…"

"It's fine," Jem said, waving away her apology. "Come, sit." He gestured for her to sit on the bed. He was perched in a chair by the window, the moonlight making his hair a halo around his pale face.

"Lucky you aren't more like Will, or I'd never hear the end of it," Belle remarked thoughtfully as Jem nodded. "I agree completely. I'm glad you're back, by the way."

Belle looked out the window at the city, and apparently her face belied some of the homesickness she felt, for when Jem spoke next his voice was gentle. "How do you like London?"

Belle snapped back to reality. "Oh– I like it fine. It's just so… _gray_. The sky, the buildings, even the people!"

Jem chuckled. "I remember feeling that way when I first came here. I missed the color _green _most of all. You get used to it, after a while."

Belle tilted her head to the side. "Where did you come from? Where you in Idris?"

Jem shook his head. "Shanghai."

Belle desperately wanted to ask what had brought him to London, but she couldn't think of a way to ask without sounding rude. Instead she said, "I miss green, too. New York was mostly silver, but Central Park was beautiful… And Paris was lovely…"

Jem nodded, understanding. "It's hard at first, but you'll learn to love London. If you want, I can show you my favorite places, the places that are more green than gray. Down by the river…"

Belle hopped up and ran to the window, where the Thames was visible in the distance. She pointed to it. "Look, even the river is gray!"

Jem laughed and took a look. "That's silver, not gray. That's just the moonlight. Silver is more appealing than gray, don't you think?"

Belle reached out and brushed a strand of Jem's silky hair off his forehead. "Sure is," she agreed, though at that point it was unlikely she was talking about the river.

Jem swallowed. "I still like green best, though," he said quietly, looking into Belle's emerald eyes.

Belle was suddenly unable to look at Jem any longer without feeling her face burn, so she rested one cheek on the cool glass of the window, looking at the stars. "What does Will think of London? Does he love it as you do?"

"I think it's unlikely Will loves anything but himself. That's not to say he doesn't care about anything, it's just that he feels that love is an emotion left for the most important things in life."

"And _he_ is one of the most important things in life?"

"He certainly seems to think so."

Belle was quiet for a minute. "He loves you." Seeing that Jem was taken aback by the statement, she corrected herself. "You two are as close as brothers, right? Brothers love each other."

Jem thought for a moment. "Will–" He broke into a fit of coughing, putting a pale, slender hand to his mouth. When he pulled it away, Belle saw that it was stained red- _blood_. She blanched. "Jem?" she asked nervously, her eyes huge with fear. He fell to his knees, still coughing, his skin whiter than the shirt he wore. He looked up at her, and she could see that his silver eyes had diluted to nearly white. "Need– Will–" he choked out.

Belle ran out the door, screaming Will's name as loud as she could. He appeared at the bottom of the staircase, grinning. "You ought to know that won't impress me. I'm used to girls screaming my name." He didn't seem to notice Belle's terrified expression.

"Will, it's Jem! He's coughing up blood, this is no time for you to be making innuendoes at me!" Before she had even finished speaking, Will paled and flew upstairs into Jem's room. Belle followed, watching Will kneel by Jem. "Where is it, Jem?" he asked in a carefully controlled voice.

Jem shook his head. "I don't–" He broke into a fresh fit of coughing, red flowers spreading across his shirt where there were none before. Accepting defeat, he pointed soundlessly to his dresser. Will leapt up, opened the top dresser drawer and took out a small box. He opened it and took out a small spoonful of powder the same shade of silver as Jem's hair and eyes.

Jem managed to swallow the powder, grimacing. He took a few deep breaths, the coughing over. His mouth was red with blood, the only color in his ghostly pale face. With help from Will, he stood and collapsed on his bed, eyes closing as he was rendered unconscious. Will swept Jem's hair off his face, sighing. "Sleep, James," he said softly. This was the most caring he had ever been. Belle put a hand to her face, surprised to find it wet– she hadn't realized she was crying. She took a deep shuddering breath and started sobbing quietly.

Will jumped and spun; it seemed he had forgotten she was there. He said nothing, just turned back to Jem, now sleeping quietly.

"Is– is he going to be okay?" Belle asked softly and fearfully.

"I don't suppose it's any of your business," Will said, blinking.

"Why wouldn't it be? I was here when it happened. I deserve to know what's wrong with him."

"He can tell you himself," Will said firmly.

"Oh, well, good thing he's so alert, then. I can ask him right now," Belle said sarcastically.

"Are you going to be _glib_ about this? He could have _died_," Will said furiously, struggling to keep his voice down so as not to wake Jem.

"I want an answer! I care about him, too," Belle said softly.

"Not more than I do. He'll tell you if and when he wants to. And _don't_ ask him about it. You should leave, anyway."

"Why? Why should I leave?"

"There's nothing you can do here," Will insisted. When Belle didn't move, he raised his voice. "_Get out_!"

Belle stared for as minute, looking as though she was going to say something. Instead, though, she turned on her heel and stormed out, at least being careful enough to close the door softly.

**Oh no! Jem! Well, you'll see what happens next. Actually, I don't know what happens next... awkward...**


	9. Chapter 9

**I know I just posted a new chapter, like, 3 days ago, but whatever. I'll be updating my other stories soon, by the way. So here you go! Two chapters in 1, because the first is mad short. Yo. Some interesting questions are answered, and ALL IS REVEALED.**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, I don't own Will or Jem... Sadness.**

**Chapter: Jem**

Jem, having recovered from his "episode", another bout with his infernal illness, asked Will (who had slept by his bed) to get Belle for him. "Will, please," he begged, sounding tired even to his own ears. "I need to speak to her."

If Will thought this was a bad idea, he said nothing, just left the room with his mouth set in a hard line. Jem sighed, leaning back against his pillows and closing his eyes until he heard the door open again. Will had returned, leading a very frightened Belle to the bed. She looked exhausted, as though she hadn't slept, with her hair pulled into a messy ponytail and dark circles present under her wide eyes. Her light skin was even paler.

"Oh, Jem, are you okay?" she asked softly, clearly wanting to comfort him but being afraid to. _Why does everyone think I'll break if they touch me?_ he wondered. "What's wrong?"

"Don't ask that," Will warned her, but Jem waved it away. "You don't have to be here if you don't want to be, William." Will did in fact leave, slamming the door behind him. Jem patted the bed beside him and indicated that Belle should join him. She did, though still looking nervous.

"Are you okay?" she asked again and Jem, after a moment's hesitation, nodded. "I am now."

"What was wrong?"

Jem took a deep breath. "I'd like to tell you, and I will, but I don't think I can right now. Perhaps tomorrow we can take a walk? I can show you one of the places I love."

Belle agreed, some color coming back into her cheeks as she relaxed. "Oh, I was so worried that you were going to–" She stopped, blushing furiously.

"Die?" Jem finished softly, as Belle bowed her head. "I'm sorry Jem, I promised myself I wouldn't say that, and then I saw you, and… and I just forgot, I just slipped up–"

Jem held up a hand to stop her. "It's fine, really. I've heard worse."

Belle shook her head. "I– I should go. Unless you want me here?"

Jem sighed. "Maybe it'd be best if…"

"Of course."

As she left, Jem did have to ask one thing. "Please don't tell Will that I'm going to tell you about… Anyway, he'd rather I didn't tell anyone, but it's not his secret to keep. If I can trust you, and I think I can, I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast."

"You can trust me, Jem."

**Chapter: Belle**

The sky was, for once, a shade of gray that was almost blue, and sunlight managed to shine through the thin layer of clouds. The trees were fluttering lazily in the wind, a few wayward flowers had bloomed, and a lone bird was singing. Two people, a teenage boy and girl, slipped out the Institute doors and started walking down the street.

The boy was Jem Carstairs, tall and slender with strange silvery hair and almond shaped eyes of the same color. He was dressed in the black clothes of a Shadowhunter, closefitting trousers and shirt. Only those with a trained eye would see the lump of a seraph blade under his coat.

The girl was Belle Renault, only a few inches shorter than Jem with a slim willowy figure. Her hoodie was drawn over her head, but when she pulled her hood back you could see her face. Her skin was luminous in the sunlight, black hair shining and green eyes glinting. Her full lips were curved into a smile.

The pair set off for Blackfriar Bridge, a few blocks away. "So, Jem, what is it that you wanted to tell me?" Belle asked when they had arrived. When he gave her a look of confusion, she added, "You wanted to tell me something, remember? That's why we're here."

"Oh, oh, right, yeah. Uh, actually, it's kind of serious. Still want to hear?" When she nodded, Jem continued. "Okay, story time."

He took a deep breath and began. "Well, you know that I came here from Shanghai when I was eleven. You know that my parents were killed by demons. There was a greater demon, Yanluo, who was angry with my mother, who had killed many of Yanluo's offspring. The demon tied me to a chair and steadily injected me with its poison. This went on for two days as I drifted in and out of consciousness while my parents called my name. One time when I woke up, my father's voice was gone. He had been silenced. When my mother was gone, too, I was allowed to live, to suffer. I was sent here, where my father grew up. However, I had become dependant on the demon poison, and though the Silent Brothers tried to get me off it, it couldn't be done. The poison leeches the color from my hair, eyes and skin. And… and it's slowly killing me. I probably have no more than five years if I'm lucky."

Belle was silent. Jem, her closest friend, dying? It couldn't be true… but the look on his face told her it was. Anyway, who would lie about something like that? "That's why I sometimes cough up blood, if I haven't taken the poison that day. That's why I can't always keep up with Will- actually, bad example. No one keeps up with Will." Somehow he smiled. "So what about you? What's your life story?"

Belle sighed. "Story time. Once there was a young couple, Downworlders, faeries actually. The man liked to experiment, but not like Henry, who works with machinery. The man used living subjects. Specifically, he wanted to have a Downworlder with the powers of Shadowhunters. He came by Nephilim blood, dried it, and took some- no reaction. He must be too old, he reasoned. The best results would probably be on one not yet born, and coincidentally his wife was pregnant. He gave her the blood, without her knowledge, and he watched the child after birth. The child grew up to be a warrior, but many Downworlders are warriors. This one exhibited no particular special talents.

He reasoned that more concentrated blood would produce a better effect. As the Shadowhunters descended from angels, angel blood would work well for his purposes. I believe a man called Morgenstern had a similar idea in Idris a while back… Anyway, don't ask me how he got angel blood, I don't know, nor do I think I want to know, but he got it. Again, when his wife was pregnant, he gave her the angel blood. When this child was born, he watched closely for the traits he was looking for. As the child grew up, the man noticed intelligence, agility, speed, strength, and other fighting skills. However, the child was stubborn and would not obey the man. Not what he was looking for, then.

It was two years until the man's wife gave him the opportunity to try his latest experiment, using demon blood. It was easier, he reasoned, to control a demon than a Shadowhunter or an angel. When this, the third child, was born, its mother looked it in the face. It had black pits for eyes, and sharp fangs for teeth. She screamed, and throttled the child. Overcome with grief at killing her own child, though it was a monster, the woman hung herself. Downworld caught wind of this… _experience_, and the man fled the country with his two remaining children. And that is where his story ends, and mine begins."

Jem's silver eyes were wide. "So- so you- you're-"

Belle smiled sadly. "Yes. I am the second experiment, child of faerie and angel. This does, as you might expect, give me abilities that are more common in Shadowhunters than Downworlders."

Jem was curious. "Like… what?"

"Well, like…" Belle thought for a moment. "Look, I'm a faerie, meaning my strengths should lie in the mind. Instead, though- and don't get me wrong, my mind is _stunning_- I have speed, endurance… Intelligence, of course, and agility, though that might be more due to my figure than to my blood. And my looks-"

Jem smiled. "Your looks are due to your being a faerie, not angel blood. Although…"

"No, I mean… Well, _look_. It's not a glamour. I'm not blue-skinned, or horned, or fanged or winged or any other weird thing. This is how I really look," Belle finished, only a small bit of pride in her voice.

"If you're as special as you claim you are," Jem said in a teasing tone, "then show me something impressive."

Belle laughed. "I thought people are supposed to trust the ones they love," she mocked.

Jem leaned back and rested his weight on his hands. "And who said there was love involved?"

Belle shook her head. "Jem Carstairs, you are worse than Will sometimes, you know that? I love you as my _friend._ Okay…" She looked around, seeing a nearby tree. "Alright, see that tree over there? See that branch?"

Jem frowned at the tree. "What branch? The tree has rather a lot of them."

"Wise ass. The lowest one, with the patch of red leaves on it. Bet you I can reach it."

"That's got to be thirty feet off the ground! No way," Jem scoffed.

"Can too. Watch," Belle instructed. She walked over to the tree, looking up at the branch. Cocking her head slightly, she gave the sky a wry grin and jumped. It seemed she flew, rather like an arrow, straight up until she could grasp the branch. She swung herself up and over, crouching on the limb and grinning down at Jem, who was looking at her with shock on his face. With one more bob of her eyebrows, she leapt down, landing in a squat. She stood up completely unharmed.

"Well? What did you think?" she asked Jem rather insolently.

"I- I think we need to tell Charlotte about this…" Jem stuttered uneasily.

**Yeah, so, kinda a female Jace... That's life. Isn't it interesting? And unexpected? And shamefully copied from City of Glass?**


	10. Chapter 10

**This is actually 4 chapters in 1, and it is pretty long, but don't be a hater. I'll give this to you, but no more until I get 5 more reviews. I mean it, now, y'hear? Okay, so, this takes place approximately the night of the last chapter, which was in the morning. It's very passionate (not like that, you perv), full of turmoil and some... stuff is revealed. *clears throat suspiciously* Look, you'll know what I'm talking about when this chapter is over. Enjoy!  
Disclaimer: Cassie Clare is the most fantabulous, spectaculous writer ever! Especially 'cause I'm SO EXCITED for CoFA!**

**Chapter: Belle**

Belle, still furious with Will, crashed into her room. Except, wait- it wasn't her room. Jem stood there, holding his violin, looking surprised, but not displeased, to see her standing there. "Oh, Belle… hi. May I ask why you've burst into my room?"

"Sorry. Wrong room," Belle muttered, turning to leave.

Jem put his violin on his bed and grabbed Belle's arm. "What's wrong? By which I mean, what did Will do now?"

Belle was ashamed to feel tears fill up her eyes. She wasn't usually like this; was it what Will had said, or the soft tone in which Jem asked what was wrong? "He- we were arguing about something stupid, you know how we are, and- and he told me he understood why I was alone. Why no one wanted me, cared for, loved me-" Belle laughed without any amusement, a few wayward tears sliding down her face, "-except a vampire. I've seen Will be rude a thousand times, but never hit so hard below the belt, for no reason other than that he could. It- it _hurt_, Jem, especially since it's all true."

Jem pulled Belle to him in one swift motion, folding her into his arms. "Hey, now, it's not true. You are wanted here. If you weren't- well, none of us are the type to mince words. You'd know. And as for being loved- you will find someone who loves you, in a more-than-friend way, that is."

Belle pulled away a bit, looking up at Jem. "You- you think so?"

He smiled. "I _know_." In a fit of bravery that was most unlike him, he leaned in and softly brushed Belle's lips with his own. His silky silver hair ticked Belle's forehead as she deepened the kiss. Anything Will had said or done fled Belle's mind; there was only her and Jem, his hands around her waist, her arms around his neck like a vine, pulling him closer, and her lips on his. After a moment- (or was it a minute? An hour?)- both parties had to pull away to catch their breath.

Jem looked healthier now- his eyes were bright and alert, and his cheeks had a soft rosy hue. They smiled at each other before Belle grabbed the front of Jem's shirt with both hands, pulling him close again. He tangled his hands in her long, silky hair. Belle's legs seemed to melt when Jem slipped his tongue into her mouth, and she was lucky they were so close together or she would have fallen. Later they would worry about how to explain this to everyone- for now it was enough just to be together.

**Chapter: Will**

Will yelled for Jem, _again_. Damn him, he still wasn't answering. Time to do this the hard way, then- burst into Jem's room and completely invade his privacy. He took the stairs two at a time, finally ending up outside Jem's room. He threw the door open and proclaimed loudly, "By the Angel, Jem, I've only called you a thousand times. What've you-"

He broke off, his voice cracking. Jem lay collapsed on his bed, still fully dressed, not moving. Will rushed to his side. "Jem, Jem, are you okay? Do you need your medicine? Where is it? Jem, answer me, please!"

Jem turned his head to Will and furrowed his brow. "I'm fine, William, why are you in hysterics?"

Will, though frustrated on the outside, secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Jem was alive and well, then. For now. "Because, _James_, it matters to me if you die, you know. I did swear an oath to protect your life, as you swore one to protect mine. And where else can I find someone willing to put up with me?"

Jem smiled. Will noticed how healthy he looked, how happy. He couldn't seem to stop smiling, his pale cheeks had a flush of pink in them, and he was starry-eyed. His hair was all messed up- it looked like someone had run their hands through it. Jem was always peaceful, calm, content- it was a rare treat to see him truly _happy_.

Of course it made Will suspicious. He narrowed his eyes. "What's up with you? Why are you like this?"

Jem seemed truly surprised at the question. "Like what? I'm _happy_, Will, I should think-"

Will interrupted, as he was wont to do. "Yeah, yeah, you're happy. Why? What did I miss?"

Jem sighed. "Does it matter? 'Ours is not to question why-' "

"-Ours is but to answer my question. Tell me, or by the Angel I swear I'll force it out of you."

Jem was genuinely taken back. "Well, if you must know, it was Belle. After you verbally abused her, she burst in here- much like you just did- by mistake, explained what happened and started crying. I was consoling her, one thing led to another…"

Will's blue eyes widened. "James Carstairs… did you sleep with Belle?"

Jem laughed. "No, no, nothing like that. We just kissed… for a long time…" He smiled as if recounting the pleasant memory. Then something in his expression changed, and he looked at Will with ice in his eyes. "Why do you do things like that, Will? Why did you have to torture her? She was really cut up about what you said…"

Will straightened up. "I tell things the way I see them. That was my opinion, and I'm not about to apologize for giving it."

"Your opinion is that she's unwanted and unloved? By _whom_? Charlotte adores her, Henry seems to like her, and Jessamine doesn't completely hate her. I think. And as for me-" He blushed. "Well, I don't care what _you_ think, Will, it isn't necessarily what everyone else has to think, too. It would do you well to remember that."

Will, predictably, stormed out. He slumped against the corridor wall, trying to ignore the feelings inside him. It wasn't that he hated Belle, but he couldn't tell anyone that, much less Jem. He wondered how much Jem would hate him if he confessed that he was in love with Belle.

**Chapter: Jem**

Jem lay on his bed for a long while after Will stormed out, just thinking, about anything and everything. He felt strangely disconnected from his body, but it wasn't unpleasant in the least- rather, it was interesting.

It was then that his eyes snapped open- he didn't know he had fallen asleep, let alone that he was dreaming the disconnected from his body thing. Although, it did make more sense that way. Jem wondered if he was possibly going crazy, or was it something else? With a sigh he stood up and walked over to his mirror, staring at his reflection. He saw his unnaturally pale skin, his silver hair messy from where Belle had run her fingers through it, his silver eyes filled with something he couldn't quite name. He also saw the dark circles under his eyes, the little white scars that snowflaked his skin, his frail build. He looked like someone trying hard to pull it together when everything was falling apart, though he was not.

_Love does strange things to you,_ he thought. _I can't eat, I can't sleep… No wonder I look such a mess._ Belle didn't seem to care, amazingly; that was what he loved about her, one of many things. Her eyes, her smile, her laugh, and especially the way she held him. She held him the way one might hold the one they love, tight and strong– she didn't treat him like the fragile piece of glass that everyone saw when they looked at him.

Jem remembered every detail of the kiss that was only- how long ago? How long did he sleep? He remembered the tears that clung to Belle's long black lashes like tiny diamonds, the happy flush to her cheeks after the kiss, the feel of her soft lips opening beneath the pressure of his, the way she clung to his shirt like she would die if she let him go.

However… he was no fool. He saw the way Will looked at Belle, the sad look in his eyes when she turned to Jem rather than him. He knew that the people Will seemed to hate most were the ones he cared about most, which is why he was always rude to Jem, who would always forgive him. Belle rarely forgave and never forgot, something unfamiliar to Will. Jem felt equal measures of pleasure and guilt- he was delighted that the girl wanted by others belonged to him; but he was depressed that it was his best friend, brother really, who had feelings for Belle.

_What am I supposed to do?_

**Chapter: Belle**

A knock on her bedroom door woke Belle at some ungodly hour of the morning. She stood slowly, stretching and rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands. She straightened her pajamas and opened the door, wincing at the sudden bright light. At first all she saw was the silhouette of a tall, thin boy in black. Expecting Jem, she was surprised to see black hair, rather than silver. _Will_.

Belle sighed. "What are you doing here, Will?"

"You're awake," Will said, surprised.

"I am now. Well? What do you want?" Belle asked, annoyance in her voice.

"It's about earlier, what I said to you. I-"

"Let me guess. You talked to Jem, didn't you." It wasn't so much a question as a statement, because Belle already knew the answer. "Look, it's sweet of him to do this, but I don't want your apologies unless you mean them."

Will shook his head. "I did talk to Jem, but I wanted to do this. I shouldn't have said all that. I just wanted to talk…"

"Do we have to do this now? It's-" She glanced at her phone. "One in the morning. I'm tired, and I just want to go back to sleep."

"I'd rather it be now," Will insisted.

Belle groaned, but stood aside to let Will come into her room. He did so, for once without a sarcastic grin, and sat down in a chair by her window. Belle sat back down in the bed with crossed legs. "What," she asked rather crossly, "is so important that you had to wake me up this early in the morning to talk?"

Will swallowed. "It is actually about Jem."

"What about him? Is he okay?" Belle was concerned.

"No, no, he's fine. Well, same as he was earlier, anyway. It's just that… You and him… It won't work."

Belle stood up, shocked. "You woke me up to tell me that Jem and I shouldn't be together? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Will stood too, matching her furious tone with his own fierce one. "What's wrong with _you_? He's sick, he shouldn't be-"

"Shouldn't be _what_, Will? Happy? Are you just angry because he has a chance to be happy and you don't? Because he has a chance to have a real relationship instead of just sleeping around with hookers? Because- because- I don't know, okay? I don't understand you, I'm not going to pretend that I do, but are you jealous, Will?"

"Jealous of what? That he's stuck here with no one but you instead of going out and having fun? I wouldn't wish that on him. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, in fact." Gone was the caring, concerned person who had politely knocked on her door. In his place was this, Will at his worst, his already unkind persona undoubtedly heightened by alcohol.

"_Get out_." Belle's voice was a low growl. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides and every muscle in her body was tense. Her green eyes narrowed into slits. When Will didn't move, she hissed again. "I told you to _get out of my room! _I want you as far away from me as possible, do you understand? I care about Jem more than anyone, and I'm not going to hurt him."

Will stormed out, slamming the door behind him. However, instead of going back to his room, he leaned against Belle's bedroom door, sinking down until he was sitting on the floor. He heard Belle inside, saying, "I'm not going to hurt him," though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

"I know," Will whispered, making sure Belle didn't hear him, "I just don't want him to hurt you."

**Yeah, Will fell HARD. Ouch.**


	11. Chapter 11

**This is the morning after the last chapter, if you couldn't figure it out. Please review! Oh, by the way, if anyone wants to talk about the books, or MI (especially CoFA!), I love discussing theories. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters...**

**Chapter: Belle**

Belle headed down the staircase, still exhausted, intent on finding Charlotte. As it was breakfast time, she was in the kitchen, but she wasn't alone. Will and Jem were there, as well as two others Belle didn't know. The man sitting next to Charlotte was tall and broad-shouldered, with hazel eyes and a pleasant face topped with a shock of untidy ginger hair. The other was a girl of about eighteen, almost ridiculously pretty, with creamy pale skin, brown eyes and thick blonde hair. She was staring at Belle with a curious expression.

"Belle," Jem said quietly, "let me introduce everyone. You've already met Charlotte and Will, of course." He indicated the red-haired man. "This is Henry, Charlotte's husband." He waited as Belle shook hands with Henry.

"Hey, is that clockwork?" Belle asked, gesturing to a piece of metal Henry was fidgeting with. His eyes lit up. "Are you interested in such things?"

The conversation between them continued for a few minutes before Jem interrupted with a hand on Belle's back. "And this is Jessamine Lovelace."

Belle nodded in Jessamine's direction. "Pleased to–"

Jessamine interjected. "Charlotte, is she to be my lady's maid? You wouldn't mind, would you?" She turned back to Belle, studying her closely. "I suppose you're pretty enough. Can you speak French?"

Belle smiled, ignoring Will's cool amusement, Jem's speechlessness and Charlotte's mild annoyance. "Certainly." She chattered away in fluent French as Jessamine nodded, clearly pretending to understand.

Will laughed aloud, and after a moment Jem gave a small smile. Belle's sentences were all along the lines of, "Absolutely not. I am no lady's maid, and who do you think you are to suggest such a thing? I'd rather die than subject myself to something such as that. By the way, that dress makes you look like a cheap whore."

Jessamine glared at Will. "Excellent, then. You can help me dress, I'm going out later."

"Jessie!" Charlotte admonished. "She is a _guest_, not your personal servant."

"And by the sound of it, she doesn't fancy the position anyway," Will added lazily, rocking back in his chair so that the front legs were off the ground.

"I concur, vehemently," Belle agreed, sitting down in one of two available spots– one next to Henry, and one next to Jessie. Unsurprisingly, she chose the one next to Henry, leaving Jem to sit next to Jessie, who didn't look pleased about it.

As he sat down, Jem turned to Charlotte. "Charlotte, after breakfast, Belle and I need to speak to you about… something of importance."

Will's eyes widened and his chair legs fell back down with a _bang_. "What is it?"

"I don't believe that's any of your business, William," Belle said coolly.

"If it involves Jem, it involves me," he asserted, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"If has nothing to do with me," Jem broke in. "I'm merely there for moral support."

"And I can't be there for the same reason?"

Belle snorted. "I doubt you've ever done something for moral reasons."

"Not true. Don't act like you know me."

"Ask me if I care," Belle replied, commencing to eat in the soft morning light from the windows in front of her. Will stood, looking furious, and left the room.

Charlotte laughed. "I quite like the way you manage Will."

Belle sighed. "No one manages Will."

**Five more reviews before I post again! I'd say I'm a review whore, but I'm really more of a review dominatrix. You can practically hear the whip cracking. *sscchhwwiinngg* By the way, I realize that many people might think I steal, borrow, whatever, a lot of lines from MI and ID. I just like them, and I like using them in my own context. Don't hate.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Wicked long chapter here. You're welcome. :) Here's more of Riley and an explanation of... stuff, which someone said they wanted. More Will shall come up, and there will be MAD ROMANCE, so watch for that. Well, not mych else to say, so here you go...**

**Disclaimer: I am reading CA for the fifth time since Christmas, and I like CoFA well enough, so ALL HAIL C SQUARED. Oh, yeah, this belongs to her. :) Love you Cassie.**

**Chapter: Belle**

"So you're saying," Charlotte began again, "that you have… angel blood? More than a typical faerie, that is? How does one even get a hold of that?"

"I don't _know_," Belle insisted for the tenth time. She and Jem had just told Charlotte Belle's secret, but she didn't quite know what to do with the information– sad, because Jem didn't know what to do either. "I know that there are actually two teenagers in New York with angel blood– my father got the idea for _me_ from _them_. Look up Clarissa Morgenstern and Jace Wayland, they both have angel blood."

Charlotte dropped into a chair, putting her head in her hands. "What do I do?" she asked rhetorically. After a few minutes of silence, she looked up. "Can you show me?"

"Show you what?" Belle asked, confused.

"Show me… what you can do."

Belle nodded her agreement, standing up with a grin. "So should I show you… this?" She practically teleported to the other end of the room; Jem had seen hardly anyone move so quickly. "Or this?" She grabbed tiny handholds on the rough stone walls, climbing up them like a spider until she was able to perch on the rowan beam above. "Or maybe this?" She leapt off the beam, thirty feet in the air, with a perfect flip, landing on her feet like a cat. "Anything else?"

"It's true…" Charlotte said in astonishment. "Shadowhunters with years of training can't move like that. Did you have any sort of formal training?"

"No," Belle said after a moment's thought. "Some, but not nearly as much as, say, Jem or Will."

Charlotte nodded. "I appreciate you telling me, but I don't understand why I needed to know."

"Charlotte," Jem implored, speaking for the first time. "Don't you remember why you had reservations about Belle staying here when she first showed up?"

A look of recognition dawned across the woman's face. "The informant?"

Jem nodded. "It seems to me that a jealous Downworlder was getting revenge. It would appear that some others might not view Belle's talents as much as a gift as she sees them."

Belle had to agree. "That could definitely be it, but lately I've been thinking that it has something to do with Riley, and since the informant was a vampire, it could only–" She stopped talking, eyes wide, and clapped her hands over her mouth.

"Belle?" Jem asked cautiously. "What about Riley would incur the wrath of the Night Children? He's one of them, isn't he?"

"To a certain degree," she muttered. "Now _that_ is none of your business. But when did I ever tell you Riley was a vampire?"

"You let it slip yesterday that Will said only a vampire loved you, so I thought it might be him. And if it has anything to do with you, it matters."

"No, it doesn't," she insisted. "Sometimes, what happens in Downworld stays in Downworld. You Nephilim don't need to come running every time something goes wrong. We are capable of handling ourselves."

"I didn't mean… if he has something to do with why you were hurt, I'd like to know," he explained softly. "I care about what happens to you."

Belle bit her lip, ashamed. "Sorry Jem, Charlotte… That's not what I meant. I just don't see how anyone would have such a huge grudge against Riley that…" Her voice trailed off, and a look of comprehension replaced her confused one. "I'll be back. Things to do, people to see."

Jem stood. "If you're going, so am I."

"Absolutely not. I will not see you get hurt on my account."

"You think the danger is so great that I cannot handle myself?"

"I _think_ that you don't know what the danger is."

"You could tell me."

"I'm not positive myself."

"Try me."

"I'll show you, if you're going to be so stubborn about it," she relented. "Just come on. It needs to be after dark, but I need to talk to some people first."

Jem agreed and, with Charlotte's permission, the pair headed out in the direction of Magnus Bane's house. When they arrived, Belle walked in without knocking, calling, "Magnus! Where are you?"

He appeared in a doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist. "Belle, darling, I'm busy. Can you come back later?"

"No."

He sighed. "Give me fifteen minutes."

It was more like thirty minutes when Magnus reappeared, looking distinctly cross as he threw himself in a chair. "I was busy."

Belle craned her neck to see the small, slender body slide out of Magnus's bedroom and head for the back exit. "I can tell. However, I thought you'd think this was important."

He raised an eyebrow, cat eyes gleaming as he looked between Jem and Belle. "What, did you two have sex?"

Jem choked, while Belle protested, "no, we didn't! Why would you think–"

He rolled his eyes. "I see the way you look at her, Shadowhunter. Just watch yourself. Hurt her, and–"

"And you'll kill me?" Jem finished.

"No, I think she's quite capable of killing you herself, possibly with a variety of weapons."

"This is not actually what I came here to talk about," Belle interrupted. "I came to ask if you've spoken to Lady Belcourt recently."

"Camille?" he asked, surprised. "No, I haven't. We aren't together, you know that. Why do you want to know?"

"Probably," Belle began, "because I believe she tried to kill me."

Jem looked very surprised. "She's always been an ally of the Clave–"

"Ah, but I am not a member of the Clave."

Magnus nodded, leaning forward in his seat. "You think she is responsible for sending the demon after you? Why would she–" He froze. "Riley?"

Belle nodded. "That's what I was thinking. Do you think she was sending it after _him_, but I was just in the way?"

"If Camille is behind this, I doubt she'd be as forward as that. She's much more likely to be subtle. No, I'd say she sent a demon to kill you because it would kill Riley to see you hurt. She'd want to see him suffer."

"We _are_ close friends," Belle agreed, but Magnus shook his head.

"That's not it. I can't believe I have to tell you this, but he's in love with you. You must be blind not to see it."

"He is not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Is too. He can't look away when you're in the room, he moved away from everything he ever knew to follow you to London, he protects you–"

"We're _friends_," she insisted, though her face burned a fierce scarlet.

Jem looked thoughtful. "Riley's a vampire, right?" When Belle nodded, he continued. "Than what about him is so special that Camille wants him miserable?"

Belle hesitated, glancing at Magnus; he nodded encouragingly. "Riley is… different."

"So are you. Is that why you're friends?"

She smiled ruefully. "Misfits have to stick together. He's special in a similar way to me."

"Angel blood?" Jem looked puzzled. "What does that have to do with–"

She sighed. "It'll just be easier if I explain everything now. Riley was born and raised in America, in Boston, and went to Paris with a few friends last summer. While he was there, he got bitten. His friends had to go home without him, and tell his parents that he died– which was technically true– while Riley had to stay in Paris."

Jem made a noise of sympathy. "Oh, God. That's terrible."

Belle nodded. "Well, I was wandering the streets one night, and we met. He seemed nice enough, told me how to get where I was going– I was lost, which was especially pathetic considering I _lived_ there– and we became friends of a sort."

"Okay, I'm with you so far."

"Well, a few months after that, we arranged to meet out of the city, just to be alone for awhile. I asked if he would bite me."

He choked. "If he would _what_?"

"Bite me. I didn't want him to kill me, or turn me into a vampire, but I wanted to know what it was like." She shrugged. "I'm curious. It took almost two hours of convincing, but he gave in." She thought back to that moment, relieving details she would never share.

_His hair was black in the darkness; in fact, she wouldn't know that it's true color was auburn for days. His eyes really were as dark as they looked, that much she could see from the moon reflected in them. He was sitting very close to her. "I don't want to hurt you," he insisted, voice thick with regret and something else; he almost sounded close to tears, but she didn't think vampires could cry._

"_You won't," she said firmly, her sixteen-year-old self so convinced of that fact. "I don't think your body would even let you hurt me." This seemed to be true; he had never hurt her, hadn't even come close. It was like there was something preventing him from doing so. She became acutely aware of the way he was looking at her, his gaze roaming her face, her hair, skimming her body before rising back up to linger at her mouth. It was like he… loved her._

_He nodded, once. "Give me your wrist."_

"_Shouldn't it be my neck?" she asked with a wry smile._

"_No," he said in a voice more adamant than she had ever heard it. "I won't risk harming you like that. Wrist, please."_

_She held it up, and he took it in long, slender hands, so very gentle, like he didn't know his own strength and wasn't risking anything. He raised it to his lips slowly, but the bite was swift. Belle almost cried out, because it did hurt, but then she knew he would stop, probably refuse to touch her again in fear of doing more damage. After a few minutes, he dropped her arm and turned away, looking almost sickened._

"_What, is my blood not good enough for you?"_

"_No," he said, "that isn't it."_

"_I am half-demon, you know. Is my blood bitter?"_

"_A little, but not unpleasantly. It's more like dark chocolate, you know, really dark."_

"_Mmm, dark chocolate. I'm also half-angel. Am I sweet?"_

"_Very." He smiled. "Like honey and sunshine."_

"_Sunshine doesn't have a taste."_

"_If it did, that's what you taste like."_

_They fell asleep not long after, fingers laced together, only waking up when the sun's rays stroked them. Belle sat up first, filled with a horror she couldn't name. It was true, if her father found out she had left the city to spend the night with a vampire, he would kill her, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that they were in the sun, and that would kill Riley. He sat up, astonishing them both; the sun touched his skin, and he did not die. He was basking in the morning glow, and he was alive._

"_How– how–" he stuttered, but Belle couldn't speak. "How am I alive?" he whispered, astounded._

_It wasn't until a week later that they figured it out– her angel blood, that is, the extra angel blood she had in her, had saved him._

Belle didn't try to explain any of that; the memory seemed far too intimate to share with either of them. "Well, when the other Downworlders found out that he was a Daylighter– that's the technical term for a vampire that can withstand sunlight, and that's what my angel blood did– they shunned him. The vampires hated him, and Camille most of all. She's one of the oldest, you know, and one of the ones most bitter about not being able to walk in the sun. I suppose it's quite possible she would seek to hurt Riley through me."

"Sure is," Magnus agreed. "Not only possible, but likely. It is the type of thing she'd do. Question is, what are you going to do about it?"

"Confront her, I guess. Can you send her a message?"

Magnus nodded. "Here, you write it." He snapped his fingers, and a piece of paper and a pen appeared.

"Nice," Belle said appreciatively, taking them and scribbled a note: _"Camille: I appreciate that you tried to kill me, I really do, but since you failed, mind if we meet tonight? Say, on Narrow Street? Excellent, glad to hear it. See you after sundown, tonight. –Belle"_

"You can't stop with the wit, can you?" Magnus asked, exasperated, but with another snap of the fingers the note disappeared. "Anyway, no way in Hell am I letting you go alone."

"You sound like Jem. Why does everyone think I can't handle myself?"

Magnus chose to ignore that. "Now, I'm not going with you, but Riley definitely should and I'd recommend a Shadowhunter. Take this one." He gestured in Jem's general direction. "He'll watch your back. After all, he lo–"

"That's enough of that, then," Jem interrupted, cheeks pink. "We'll tell you how it goes, okay? We should go?"

"Why the hurry?" Belle asked, amused, but she followed him out. "Bye, Magnus! Thanks for the help!"

"Any time, my dear, any time."

**That Night**

Belle shivered. "I should have worn a coat." She was waiting with Jem and Riley at Narrow Street, and the moon shone above like a huge white saucer. The stars were the same silver as Jem's hair, and the sky was the same velvet black as Riley's eyes or Belle's curls. If Jem looked worried, Riley looked downright anxious, eyes darting catlike from side to side, jumping at the slightest sound. Belle looked thoroughly unruffled, though only she knew the calm façade masked her nervous interior.

"Here," Jem said, stripping off his jacket. "Take this." He held it out, trying not to wince at the knife-slice of cold air that penetrated the thin layer of his sweatshirt.

Belle shook her head obstinately. "No," she said stubbornly. "You're cold too. Are you sure you're all right?" she asked carefully, studying his face with narrowed eyes. "No, you're definitely not all right. I'm not taking your coat. Put it back on, I don't want you getting sick."

He rolled his eyes, but did as she commanded. "Yes, m'lady. Anything you desire."

"Don't be a prick," she said, but she smiled. "_Where_ is Camille?"

"Here," a soft voice purred from the shadows. She stepped out, looking miraculously beautiful as always. Her icy blonde curls were twisted up into an elegant knot, her eyes shone like lamps in the darkness, and she wore a scarlet dress that clung to her form seductively. A devilish grin twisted her full red mouth, and when she next spoke, the trio could see her fangs glinting. "Ever so pleased to see you alive and well, Riley. And Belle, of course."

"Can we get to the point? You sent a demon to kill me just so that you could hurt Riley," Belle said with an air of finality.

Camille bared her teeth in a snarl. "If I did?"

"It's true that the Law cannot prevent private matters between Downworlders," Jem said, "but as a human being, I think it's horrible." He shrugged, faking indifference to the way Camille took the news.

"James," she acknowledged in a pleasant voice. "It is not often I see a Shadowhunter so involved in the affairs of the Children of Faerie, especially without a good reason. Although," she mused, "I suppose you do have a good reason, don't you? At least, you think you have a good reason." At his questioning look, she laughed, a harsh sound like breaking glass. "Don't think I don't see the way you look at her. It's apparently only the girl who doesn't know–"

Remembering what Magnus said about her not knowing that Riley loved her, Belle spoke. "And how exactly _does_ he look at me?"

"I don't think I should let that slip. Let the boy tell you himself. In fact, let both of them tell you."

Belle growled. "I don't want to hear this right now. Back to the matter at hand: did you or did you not try to have me killed?"

"Of course I did. Being a Daylighter is unnatural, and I am not alone in thinking so. Only the boy thinks he is normal, acceptable in society. I needed to break his spirit, to show him that he is no better than anyone else, and that he belongs with the _vampires_ if anywhere, rather than faeries and mundanes. If the way to do that is to kill you–" She shrugged, tossing her head. "Than so be it. You yourself are not precisely normal, though, are you? Just as much a freak as the Daylighter, but surely you know you cannot find refuge with the Nephilim. They are a proud people who think they are better than the rest of us, and _you do not belong with them._"

Belle took a few steps forward, stopping only feet from the vampire woman. Jem noticed the differences and similarities between the two; Camille was at least three inches taller than Belle, with pale blonde curls instead of inky black ones, and she was decked out in a beautiful gown of silk. Belle, on the other hand, looked gorgeous (at least in the opinion of the two boys) in jeans, sneakers, and one of Jem's shirts. They did share their emerald green eyes, their ice-white skin, and the ferocity in their eyes, though Camille's was controlled while Belle's was feral and wild.

"Don't," Belle said firmly, "make me hurt you."

"As if you would dare," Camille hissed. "How do you presume to kill me, faerie?"

"Well," Belle drawled, "I think it'll go a little bit like this." She leapt at Camille, drawing a knife from her belt with lightning speed, intending to hold it to the woman's throat. She moved out of the way just in time, but Belle rolled when she hit the ground and sprung to her feet again. Camille looked less arrogant now; in fact, if Belle didn't know her better, she'd say she almost looked afraid. A sudden glare of white light blazed up; Belle blinked away tears to see the faintest outline of Jem holding his witchlight stone. "I thought it'd help to have some light," he called.

Camille shrunk away from the light– _it's witchlight,_ Belle realized, _which is angel light. Angel light burns her._ She took advantage of the vampire's temporary incapacitation with another leap. This time, she succeeded in holding her dagger to Camille's icy, unmoving chest. "Move and my blade pierces your heart, so I'd be careful."

The woman glared. "You win," she mocked. "Are you going to claim your spoils and stab me?"

Belle hesitated. "I– no," she admitted. "But if this _ever_ happens again, I will not hesitate to slice your head from your shoulders. Do you agree?"

This was met with a nod. "This is far from over, Daylighter, but I will not harm your… _friend_ again. Probably."

"No! Not probably!" It was too late; Camille had disappeared. She breathed a sigh of relief. "At least I can sleep in peace."

Jem doused his witchlight, making the world suddenly dark, and hurried to be at her side, Riley close behind. It was Riley who threw his arms around Belle. "I was so worried," he whispered.

"You shouldn't have been," she insisted quietly, but she returned his gesture of affection. When he pulled away, she held out her arms to Jem. "How're you holding up, angel boy?"

He grinned weakly. "Been better. You seem much too calm about this whole thing."

"I just don't want to deal any more, you know?"

He nodded. "I understand perfectly. We've all felt that way."

She turned back to Riley. "I'm so sorry."

His eyes popped. "What in the name of–" He choked on the name of God. With a sigh, he continued. "What the hell do you have to be sorry for? She wouldn't have gone after you if it wasn't for me!"

"It's my fault you're a Daylighter in the first place!"

"Something I thank you for. You changed my life– well, my death. I owe you everything." He smiled shyly, squeezing her hand before bidding her farewell. "I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

She nodded. "Bye, Riley," she said softly.

"Bye, Belle. Jem, pleased to meet you."

"Same." They shook hands, and Riley slipped away into the darkness. "I suppose we ought to get back, yes?"

Belle nodded. "Jem?"

"Yes?"

"What did Magnus and Camille mean when they saw 'how you look at me'?"

Much to her surprise, he blushed, though he did meet her eyes. His own were too clear to be truthful, but he did answer with, "Just that I wanted you to be safe. I watched your back much the way I watch Will's."

This made sense, but Belle didn't buy it. It would have to do for now, however, and it was enough just to be with him.

**Yeah, sorry to anyone who likes Camille. I liked her in CA, but in CoFA she was a bitch, so now she is here, too. REVIEW!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey, y'all! This chapter takes place 2 weeks after the last one, and I'm sorry it's not in Will's POV. I'll do him next. {Wait a minute. That sounded wrong... Still accurate, though. ;)} There is some mild language in this chapter, well, sort of mild. If anyone's offended by the word "cockblock" or its meaning, well, too bad. It's up there. *winks smarmily* Please review!**

**Disclaimer: The usual... C squared is my GOD.**

**Chapter: Jem**

Jem was sitting in his bedroom, by the window, reading. He was so absorbed that he didn't hear the door open, though he did feel the light touch on his shoulder; in fact, it made him jump.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," the soft female voice said carefully. Jem looked up at her, and there was Belle, smiling down at him, her hair piled on top of her head. "You didn't seem to hear me knock, and then I came in and you still didn't move, so I thought you'd be less freaked out if I touched your shoulder instead of started talking."

"It's fine," he said, waving his hand in an accepting gesture. "So is there anything I can help you with?"

She sat in the chair across from him and affected an indignant expression. "Why do you automatically assume I want something?"

He raised his eyebrows in a "well?" sort of way, making her scowl. "Okay, I was wondering…"

She reached around to the bag she had on her back, pulling out a small book. Jem twisted his head to read the title: _A Midsummer Night's Dream._ "You're reading Shakespeare?"

"I'm trying, but poetry isn't exactly my strong suit. Would you be able to help me?"

Jem nodded and took the play, opening it to the page Belle had marked. He scanned the page, asking, "Why wouldn't you go to Will for this sort of thing? He's the resident poetry expert."

"We aren't on very good terms at the moment, not after… well, it doesn't matter why, but we just aren't getting along right now."

Jem nodded again. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to know, but if Belle didn't want to tell him, he wouldn't force it out of her. She would tell him if and when she wanted to. "So should we start here?"

An hour later, Belle was finally starting to understand. She was rather impatient, easily frustrated, but Jem just spoke in a soothing tone of voice and kept encouraging her, and eventually she began to get it right. "So the king of the faeries is pissed because his wife won't give him this little kid?"

"Exactly," Jem smiled.

"You can't _own_ a child!"

"This was Shakespeare's time. You could do whatever you wanted back then. I'm quite pleased you're getting the hang of it, though." Before he could say anything else, Church showed up and jumped into Belle's lap; she yelled in alarm.

"_What is this?"_

"It's a cat. I should think you'd know that."

She took a deep breath. "I know it's a cat, Jem. It just surprised me."

"Actually, "it" is a "he." His name is Church."

Belle regarded the blue-grey Persian with a weak sort of affection. "Hello, Church." Their eyes met, bright yellow and emerald green, and they came to an accord. The cat settled in her lap, and Belle turned back to Jem. "Sorry, it's just… cats and I don't always get along. I suppose that's why he's here. Cats always seem to cling to the ones they know don't like them, right?"

"It would seem so, but how could you not like him? He's ever so lovable."

"Well, so am I, but I don't crawl in your _lap_." _Unfortunately,_ Jem caught himself thinking. _Oh, Angel, I can't believe I just thought that. I'm turning into Will._ "Anyway, I think we'll get along, right, Church?"

The cat meowed, and Jem laughed. "He really is a very intelligent animal."

"Is he?" Belle scooted her chair closer to Jem's, and he swallowed, hard. That she still had that power to make his heart race like that, that nervousness still flooding his veins, made him feel strangely good. It was true that they had only known each other for two and a half weeks, had only been officially "together" for a little over two weeks, but it felt like so much longer. It had been two weeks to the day they had faced down Camille, or rather since Belle faced her down; Jem had just held the witchlight. That was the day that Magnus had almost let it slip, something that Jem hadn't even wanted to admit to himself: the fact that he thoroughly believed he had fallen in love with Belle. He had of course never told her, as it did seem much too soon.

His thoughts were broken when something moderately heavy landed on his lap. He let out a surprised noise. "Angel, Church, you're getting heavy." Church snorted indignantly, and Belle giggled.

"I do believe he's regarding you as inferior to himself."

"I believe it. Cats believe they're superior to everyone." He looked back into Belle's curious face, her wide green eyes bright with a spark of _something_, her cheeks flushed the same pale pink as a rose. They apparently had the same idea, because they leaned in and were about six inches apart when Jem's bedroom door burst open with a _crash_. The two quickly pulled away.

Will stood in the doorway looking like an avenging angel, all pretty face, blazing blue eyes and fists clenched at his side. He looked furious, though Jem couldn't imagine why. When he spoke, his voice was even, if a bit sharp.

"Jem, you're wanted downstairs."

Jem nodded. "I'll be down in a moment. If you could wait in the hall for a moment?"

Though he looked like there was nothing he would like less, Will turned and left, leaving the door open a crack.

"Cockblock," Belle muttered, and Jem choked.

"_What?"_

"That's the term for it. Cockblocking."

"The term for what, exactly?" Jem realized he sounded mildly alarmed, and he was a bit frightened to know what Belle was talking about.

"A cockblock is the general term for something that keeps a guy from getting some."

"Getting some what?"

Belle sighed, but smiled despite herself. "You are far too innocent in the ways of the world, my dearest James. 'Getting some' is a term for having sex, though in this context it refers to a kiss."

"Oh." Jem could feel his face heat up, and even more so after Belle spoke again.

"For example, your cat seems to have much the same idea." Church was standing, so to speak, on his back legs with his front paws resting on Jem's chest. His fluffy head was pressed to Jem's chin, effectively blocking Belle from giving Jem a kiss.

"James, are you coming, or must I drag you from the room?" Will's voice echoed from the hallway. Jem sighed, standing and handing the cat to Belle, who took him with a mildly horrified expression. At the first chance she placed him on Jem's vacated chair, making Jem laugh again. "Good luck with him."

Instead of answering, Belle shot a quick glance at the door to make sure Will wasn't watching. She kissed Jem fiercely for but a moment, slipping out the door like a memory; she might not have been there at all if not for her distinctive scent of orange blossoms and something smokier.

Belle's voice came, loud and mocking. "He's all yours, sir." Jem could almost see her saluting Will with him shooting her an annoyed glare. He left the room, and sure enough, Will was leaning against the wall, looking irritated beyond belief. "What's wrong with you?" Jem asked, concerned, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. As expected, he shook off the touch, but he didn't start yelling, as Jem half-feared.

"I'm fine. Are you?" That was unexpected, but Will was inspecting Jem's face with keen eyes. "Did you take your– medicine– today?"

"Yes, Will. Goodness, this concern is most unlike you. Are you sure you're feeling quite all right?"

Soundlessly Will turned and stalked away, heading down the stairs with Jem following him. _I should have expected nothing else. At least I know he cares._

**Of course he cares!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Here you go, Will's POV, at least for a chapter. Sorry this isn't longer, but I didn't quite know what to write... I know what's next, and man, is it GOOD. ;) Anyway, REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, Cassie Clare owns all. All I know is, my friend BETTER give CoFA back soon, 'cause I got to reread it.**

**Chapter: Will **

Will headed down the Institute stairs, Jem close behind. Of course, his lie would be blown apart in a few moments, but as long as it got Jem out of that room, he didn't care. He should have felt bad that he was pulling his friend out of a situation that was pleasing him, but Will's conscience didn't seem to be doing its job very well. That was assuming, of course, that Will had a conscience at all; it was entirely possible that Jem was Will's only force of guidance.

They came to the library and entered. Charlotte was at her desk in the corner, doing paperwork, though she looked up when the boys came in. "Hello Will, Jem."

Jem stepped up to her desk. "Hello, Charlotte. You wanted to see me?"

Charlotte furrowed her brow. "Er… No… Why would you think I wanted to see you? Not that I'm displeased to see you, of course, but I never requested you particularly."

Jem shook his head disbelievingly. "But Will said–" He stopped, turning around; Will could see the exasperated expression on his face. "Really, Will?"

"Really."

"You _lied_ to me."

"I don't know why that surprises you."

Jem put a hand to his forehead and sighed. "Then who wanted me down here?"

Will shrugged. "I did." He didn't tell Jem why. _I can't tell you that I didn't want you in the room with Belle… alone… with only the Angel knowing what you were doing. I didn't want to know you were in there kissing her, because you _can_ kiss her, and I can't. I didn't want you having something I couldn't, no matter how happy it might have made you._ Of course he couldn't explain any of that, at least not while sober, so he just kept quiet.

Jem just turned away. "Sorry for bothering you, Charlotte."

"You didn't bother me," she insisted, but Jem strode out of the room. He didn't look angry exactly, but he didn't look pleased either. Will nodded a goodbye to Charlotte and followed Jem out; he didn't want to have his closest friend– really his only friend– ticked off.

He expected to have to follow Jem up to his room, but he found that the boy was still stopped in the front hall, though he wasn't alone. Rather, Jem was talking to two of the Lightwoods.

"Gideon, Gabriel, simply _lovely_ to see you again. It's been a long time, since the Christmas party, right?" Muscular blonde Gideon looked nothing like slender, dark-haired Gabriel, but at that moment, they had the exact same look in their green eyes: a mixture of fiery loathing and ice-cold contempt.

"Will, must you?" Jem asked, irritated. "They say sarcasm is the last resort for the emotionally bankrupt."

"It's true. I use my rapier wit to hide my inner pain."

"Really? I thought you buried your pain with drugs, alcohol and sex," Gabriel mocked.

"Only occasionally. Like, for instance, last year's Christmas party when your sister–"

Gideon stepped forward menacingly. "Don't you _dare_ talk about Elizabeth like–"

Will matched his pose. "Like what? Like the whore that she was?"

Gideon raised a fist, as though to punch Will, but the two boys came face-to-face with the blade of a dagger. They ducked away, alarmed; Jem had drawn the knife and put it between them to reduce the likelihood that one would kill the other.

"Jem, we aren't really going to hurt each other," Will said carefully, slightly perturbed at the no-nonsense look on his face.

"Swear on it," Jem said firmly; he wasn't putting up with anything.

"I– I swear not to hurt him. For now," Will promised, and Gideon grudgingly agreed.

Gabriel held up his hands. "I've done nothing wrong, just so you know."

Will snorted. "Just the perfect little angel, aren't we?"

"Don't know why you say 'we', you're hardly innocent."

"And proud of it. Can you say the same?"

Gabriel opened his mouth to reply, but Jem cut him off. "May I ask why you two are here?"

"Training," Gideon answered, and Will noticed for the first time that both Lightwoods were in the typical training clothes– t-shirts and loose pants.

"Then you should get to training," Will replied.

Gideon gritted his teeth and nodded, though even that small gesture seemed to pain him. He turned to leave, but seemed to reconsider at the last moment. "By the way, _James,_ Herondale might call my sister a whore, but has he told you the same?"

"Told me the same about… your sister?" he asked, drawing a blank.

"I mean, has he told you that the girl you're _involved_ with is a whore?"

Jem choked. "_Belle?_ First of all, no, she isn't, and second, why would Will know?"

"Well, perhaps he wouldn't. Not yet, anyway. And as for her being, as you see it, innocent… hasn't she told you?"

"Spit it out, Lightwood," Will growled. He was angry that Gideon would call Belle a slut, for one, and to imply that she had slept with _him_ was infuriating. He tried not to think that it was because he was angry that he hadn't had a chance to sleep with Belle.

Gideon smiled sickeningly. "Well, didn't you know that she had sex with my brother?"

Will could feel himself dive forward and reach for Gideon, but he couldn't seem to stop it. Nor did he want to, at that point, and it was only Jem intervening that kept Will from killing his fellow Shadowhunter.

"If you don't believe him, just ask her," Gabriel said quietly. He didn't sound as though he was upset about it, nor did he seem to operate under the sole need to antagonize Will, as Gideon did.

"I assure you, I will."

**Chapter: Belle**

Belle was quietly poring over Shakespeare in Jem's room when the door burst open. It was Will, a mixture of shock, disbelief and anger scrawled across his handsome face. Jem was behind him, looking apprehensive.

"_What did you with Lightwood?" _Will said furiously.

"Which one?" Belle asked, slightly amused at the horrified expression on his face.

"Any of them, I suppose. Gideon said you had sex with his brother!"

"Ah," Belle said, eyebrows drawing together. "Gideon never did like me. He only got to second base with me on a dare, you know."

"He _what_?" Will looked as though his world was imploding in front of him.

"You heard me. Gabriel– well, he provided an excellent shoulder to cry on, so I gave him a kiss in thanks."

Will gulped, like a fish. "Okay, I didn't need to know any of that."

"You asked me what I did with the Lightwoods. I'm providing an answer," Belle reasoned.

"I want to know why you had sex with one of the Lightwoods! Which one was it, anyway?"

"Michael," she said quietly.

Jem sat in the chair he had vacated not long ago. "What happened there?"

She sighed. "Do you really want to know? It's a long story."

"We have time," he explained.

Belle nodded, taking a deep breath. "Here goes. It started at a party at Magnus Bane's house. I didn't know anyone but Magnus, and he was busy, so I was sort of alone in a corner for a while. Michael– and I don't even know how he got invited to this thing, but he was there– came up to me and asked if he could sit down. I agreed, we got to talking… We started seeing each other. About six months after that, on my birthday, we got to, er, sharing a bed–"

Jem interrupted. "Sorry, but can we have some ages, dates, something? It would be easier, I believe."

"Okay. When we met, I was thirteen and a half. He had just turned eighteen."

Will choked. "_Eighteen_? That's older than we are now! And you only thirteen when you had sex with him…" He sounded disgusted.

"I was fourteen. It was my fourteenth birthday… Anyway, we saw each other quite regularly after that, up until I was about sixteen. I walked in on him and– someone else– I think you know what they were doing. He apologized, of course, but I couldn't forgive him. He said he loved me, and I loved him, but that was the end."

Jem nodded sympathetically. "That doesn't make you a whore."

A look of confusion flitted across her face. "Who said I was a whore?"

"Gideon," Will provided, "though Gabriel said nothing against it."

"Yes, well, Gideon doesn't like me and I don't like him. Gabriel just didn't want to cross his brother. We're still on very good terms."

"Are you really?" Jem asked, fascinated.

"Yes. When Michael and I were together, I was friends with Gabriel and Elizabeth. Gabriel and I are still close, but Liz and I…"

"What happened?" Will wanted to know, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Belle shrugged. "I don't know. After last Christmas, she started acting strangely. The most I could get out of her was that she had met a boy, they had sex, and it was an overall horrible mistake. She wouldn't tell me who it was, though."

Jem cast Will a significant look that Belle could hardly fail to notice. "What? What do you know?"

Neither of them answered, and Belle could have sworn Will blushed. She gasped. "It was _you_? You– you– you slept with Liz?"

"We're not talking about me," Will growled. "We're talking about you. You had sex with _Michael Lightwood_ and didn't tell us."

"I didn't think it was relevant," she protested, "and you didn't ask."

"If we did, would you have told us?"

"Yes! Well, maybe not _you_, Will, but Jem? Certainly." She shot Jem an affectionate glace. "I keep no secrets from him."

"If that is true," Will began, "than maybe you wouldn't mind telling us exactly what you saw in him. In Michael."

Belle glared at him; the condescending tone of voice he used was irritating to say the least. "When I met him, he was kind, he was caring, he was… loving. He was smart, passionate, affectionate, great-looking–"

"Because looks are an _excellent_ basis for a relationship," Will muttered.

"You seem to have gotten quite far on looks alone, William," she retorted. "Anyway, I just liked him. Should my reasons matter?"

Jem began to say that no, her reasons didn't matter, but Will cut him off. "How many guys _have _you slept with?"

"What a very appropriate question. Of course it doesn't offend me at all, I'd love to answer."

"No need to be sarcastic."

"Without sarcasm, where would I be? Where would _you_ be? For your information, counting Michael, I've had sex with three guys. I would say 'boys' but Michael _was_ over eighteen, and one of the others hardly a boy at all–"

"Names, please," Will demanded.

"Michael, obviously. Magnus Bane. Some American boy I met in Paris when he came to visit the Institute. What was his name? Jace. Jace Wayland."

"You and a Wayland? Not really your type. Aren't they all loud and obnoxious?"

"Yes. I managed to look past that for one night. He was gorgeous, all white and gold… Is this really what you want to waste an afternoon discussing? My love life?"

"Your sex life," Will corrected. "And no. I have my answers, so I'll just be going, then."

"God, finally. I thought you'd never leave." Will swept out of them room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Jem breathed a sigh of relief so quiet that Belle almost didn't hear it.

"Glad he left?"

He smiled. "I can't lie. A little."

She returned his grin with one of her own. "I understand completely."

It was quiet for a bit until Jem broke the silence. "If it matters," he said softly, leaning forward in his chair and meeting Belle's green eyes with his own silver ones, "I don't care about your past. All I care about is your present, and perhaps your future."

Belle, in a very bold move, stood and pulled Jem up. She led him to the bed, sitting him down and crawling up next to him. "All I want is to forget my past and not have to worry about my future. Just having you for the present is enough, is more than enough."

Jem, when she kissed him, responded as though he was scared that he didn't know what he was doing. _Poor boy is very inexperienced, _she realized, which surprised her a little. Anyone who hung around Will… _Ah, well. I have time to teach him._

**Yeah, um... That's what's up. *If anyone's wondering, I had the Lightwoods and Magnus in Paris for a few years... Don't know why, specifically. I like it there, I guess.***


	15. Chapter 15

**Don't really know what to say... Thanks, I guess, to the people reading this. Thanks to Shakespeare and Poe for the quotes, and thanks to TheGreenBook for the alcove. *wink***

**Disclaimer: I own not thy characters, Cassandra.**

**Chapter: Will **

Will left Belle and Jem to their own devices in Jem's room. Partly it was because he couldn't bear to hear anymore about Michael Lightwood; partly it was guilt over having led Jem away for no reason; and partly it was because he couldn't think of another way to keep them apart.

He stalked away to the one place he knew would be peaceful: the library. He looked around the richly furnished room, from the high bookshelves piled with every kind of book one could want, to the alcove in the corner where Jem had– _I won't think of that,_ he decided. He looked out the windows at the bustling city and dreary grey sky. In the few seconds he stared rain started falling. _A bad omen,_ he decided. He left again, taking a familiar set of turns until he reached the desired location, which happened to be a locked bedroom door.

He took a small pin from his pocket, a hairpin, and worked the lock quickly and skillfully. He could have used an Open rune, but that would make too much noise. Silent and graceful, he slipped into the room, grabbed the object he had broken in for, and left again in a matter of seconds, taking care to lock the door behind him.

That done, Will walked with a new spring in his step on the return trip to the library. It was fun, doing these immoral things. People thought he did it for attention, but he could care less about that. He did it for himself, because he liked the rush he got. Of course, on occasion, he did it because he started to think he was a good person, and that would never do. If he needed more reasons to hate himself, he got in fights, got drunk, slept with whores, and/or invaded personal privacy, just as he was doing now.

Will settled himself in a chair by the fire. _Why is there a fire? It's practically summer._ Of course, it was cold and wet, just as it was all year in London, but that didn't make it feel less strange. He shrugged, losing interest, flipped his book open to the page it was marked to, and lost himself in poetry once again.

He was interrupted some time later by the sound of the door opening. Assuming it was Charlotte or Jem, he kept his head down, hoping they would go away. He didn't much feel like company at the moment. Of course, with his luck, whomever it was had to come right up and stand next to his chair.

He looked up with a small sigh to see, not Jem or Charlotte, but Belle, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. "You," she said in a carefully controlled voice, "have my book."

He held it up. "Property of the library, my dear. It's free game."

"Which would make sense if it was, in fact, on the shelves. It was, however, on my bedside table."

"Yes," he agreed cheerfully.

She threw up her hands in disgust. "You were in my locked bedroom. _Again._"

"Well, I wanted the book and I knew you had it last."

"I don't _believe_ you," she hissed, eyes narrowed into slits.

Will shrugged nonchalantly. "I can't imagine why. It sounds exactly like something I would do."

She threw herself in a chair across from him and glared furiously. "And to think I wanted to _apologize_–"

He started at that, dropping the book. "Apologize? What could you have to apologize for?"

"For– I dunno, being unfriendly, I guess. I never gave you a chance to prove me wrong… After all I'd heard about you, I just judged you and acted on that judgment without really getting to know you. And then after you came to my room that night…"

Her voice trailed off, but Will already knew what she was talking about. She was speaking of the time he woke her up at one in the morning to tell her she shouldn't be seeing Jem. He had hoped she had forgotten, but obviously luck had abandoned him.

"Anyway," she continued, clearly uncomfortable, "I'm sorry for acting like I hated you. I don't really."

Her hands fluttered nervously in her lap as she waited for Will to speak, perhaps to say he forgave her or maybe apologize himself. Will was too lost in his own fantasies and daydreams to say a thing.

_I don't hate you either,_ he thought. _In fact… how to say it… every time we touch, I feel that electricity passing between us. It hurts so much that you don't notice it as I do. Every time I see you, I get all weak and fluttery inside, like some lovesick woman, and I hate myself. I do actually hate you, but I hate you for making me love you._

When he was able to pay heed to his surroundings once more, Belle was hovering over him, examining his eyes with a kind of concerned curiosity. "You all right, Will?"

_No. _"Yes, I'm fine. Didn't know you cared one way or another."

"Didn't I just tell you I didn't hate you? 'Course I care. Jem sees some merit in you, and I'll try my utmost to find it, never you fear." She smiled that amazing smile, the one that lit up her face like a Christmas tree. The witchlight made her hair shine even more richly, and her eyes were so luminous–

_Stop it. Stop staring, you fool._

He couldn't. His body refused to listen to his brain, nothing new, of course. "Well, take the book with you when you leave." _Please leave. I can't have you here right now. It simply isn't possible. My heart may actually explode._ A distant part of his brain, the only part of him that remained the old Will Herondale, was amused at the thought and wondered, in a scientific manner, what it would look like to observe a man whose heart was exploding.

Belle shrugged, taking the hint, and stooped to grab the book of poetry. "I'll take the bloody book, then."

"You're certainly in a good mood now." _What? What the hell was that? 'You're in a good mood,' dear God, you've never said something so idiotic._

She just grinned. "I sure am."

"Did you have sex with Jem?" he blurted out.

She jumped. "No. No, no, God no. Why would you think I did?"

"Well, you just came from seeing him, and you're so happy now…" He stopped talking awkwardly. _They barely know each other. Relax._

"He just… he said the sweetest thing…" She stared into space, looking gloriously, stunningly radiant. "He said, 'I'll follow thee and make a Heaven of Hell, to die upon the hand I love so well.'"

Will swallowed, hard. It was usually he who was quoting poetry, but he had to admit that it would have sounded better coming from Jem. "It's Shakespeare. He read it to me once." _Why did you tell her that? Now she'll think you're gay._

She didn't seem to; she just blinked, coming back to reality. "Yes, he told me that. I mean, not the part about reading it to you…" She bit her lip, trying– and failing– to hold back another soft smile. "So, am I forgiven?"

It took him a minute to remember that that was why she had come in the first place. "You are if I am."

"Deal," she said firmly. Will stood fluidly and held out his arms, hoping against hope she would grace him with her touch. She did, leaning in and giving him a swift hug. In another moment, she was gone, slipping out of the library as though she had never been there at all. Will sank back into the chair and stared into the fire, a maelstrom of emotion churning within him.

There was, of course, the love he felt for Belle, tinted with the guilt for taking something from Jem and the bitter knowledge that he didn't deserve her even if she wanted him, which she didn't. He was angry, he was depressed, and he was gleeful. He was still tingling with the aftershock of the electricity she sent through his body, just with that one touch.

He just sighed, wanting to sit and brood. _But our love was stronger by far than the love of those who were older than we, of many far wiser than we…_


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry, I know I haven't posted in FOREVER, but I've had a lot of schoolwork, and the SATs are Saturday... Well, here we go. *Thanks to Ski October, my soulmate/beta.***

**Disclaimer: The usual. I own nothing.**

**Chapter: Jem**

"Gabriel Lightwood," Belle said with a smile. She and Jem were sitting on one of the tables in the library, legs swinging, just talking. Jem had just asked her who her closest friend– besides Riley– was.

"Gabriel? Really?" It seemed strange to think, but it was really only Will, and by extension Jem, who quarreled with him. He was perfectly pleasant to everyone else. "What's he like, really? I've only ever seen him around Will, and, well, it isn't a pretty sight."

Belle smiled again. "God, he's great. He's so eager to make you happy, he'd do anything… Not like that!" she clarified quickly, as Jem's face seemed to convey his surprise and faint horror. "No, he's just great at cheering me up. I love talking to him, you know? He's not nearly as bad as Will makes him out to be."

Jem nodded. "I understand completely, but I must admit I find it hard to see it from your point of view. Did you know he holds a vendetta against Will to this day? I mean, we were fifteen. Everyone's done stupid things at fifteen–"

She held up a hand. "Explain."

Jem hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. He was sure Will wouldn't appreciate Belle hearing this story, but he could only hope Will never found out. "Well, don't tell Will that I told you this, but when we were fifteen, Will sort of coerced Gabriel's sister, Elizabeth, into… well, I think you can guess what happened. He was her first, and she has never forgiven him for this. Gabriel hates Will on his sister's behalf."

She was quiet. "Why did they have sex if she didn't like him?" she asked, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"Near as I can tell, she was very drunk and didn't quite know what she was doing."

"And Will didn't stop? Didn't care that she probably didn't want to?"

Jem was silent, this thought having occurred to him any number of times. _At the time, she did want it, and if I know Will, he had been drinking too. He wouldn't have forced himself on her if she had actively resisted…_ He hated that he wasn't sure, that there was still some doubt in mind. Will had taken the virtue of dozens of girls, and nearly all of them now hated him, but that was because they cared for him and he just used them for sex. Liz was different because she never liked him, and Jem hated that he wasn't entirely sure how much of their tryst was her bad decision making and how much was Will's sex drive.

"I see," she said quietly. "If I may ask… where do the Lightwood's live? I haven't seen Gabriel in a year now, and I quite miss him. I won't go over there now, but in a few days, I might…"

"Oh, yes, of course," Jem said, only too eager to get off the subject of Will and Liz. He gave Belle the address and made sure she knew how to get there.

"Thanks, Jem. I'll go write that down, because otherwise I'll forget." She hopped off the table, kissed Jem quickly, and ran out of the room, curls flying out behind her. Jem watched her go with a heaviness in his heart that he couldn't identify. After a moment it hit him– _jealousy._ He was jealous that Belle was so pleased about seeing another man, even if they were just friends. If he ever got wind of anything else, though, he wasn't sure even Charlotte would disapprove if Jem punched Gabriel in the face.

_Did I really just think that? She wouldn't. She does care for me, I know it. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at me. I wonder if she sees the same in mine… If she knows I love her…_

**Chapter: Belle**

Belle was in the kitchen one cloudy afternoon a few days later, but she wasn't alone. She was wrapped tightly around Jem, her fingers in his hair and his hands pressed to her back. They were so involved in each other that they didn't hear the door open and someone enter.

"By the Angel, get a room!" the annoyed masculine voice called loudly. Belle disentangled herself from Jem and stood up, exasperated. "We _had_ a room until you burst in."

"All I wanted was a cup of tea, and I have to see you two? It's too early for this."

"Will, it's three in the afternoon," Jem explained reasonably.

Will narrowed his eyes. "Well, I just woke up. Can you go anywhere else?"

"Can you?" Belle asked. "We have as much right to be here as you do!"

"This is the only kitchen, there's dozens of other rooms you could be in!" This sounded logical, which only made Belle more upset.

"Who do you think you are? Don't try to tell me where I can and cannot kiss Jem."

"Leave me out of this," he muttered, but the other two ignored him.

"Obviously not, but even whores have the courtesy to stay in their bedrooms."

"Are you calling _me_ the whore, William? Bit like the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

"A bit, yes," he said, looking infuriatingly amused.

"God, you're terrible! Like there aren't much worse places you've partaken in your own amorous adventures, getting a lot farther than we just did!"

"Oh, just go away. Go have sex with Jem somewhere. Or it doesn't have to be him, it could be anyone, right? I don't suppose you're very particular, at least if all I've heard about faeries is true," he mused.

Belle looked like she would like nothing better than to kill him with her bare hands. "I'll do what I damn well please, you can't tell me what to do, where to do it and who to do it with, and for the last time, _I am not a whore!_"

"I'm not convinced. Try saying it again, with a bit more passion this time."

She threw her head back and let out a little scream of frustration before grabbing her sweatshirt from where it hung on the back of a chair. "Jem, I'll see you later."

"Bye," he called, but she was already gone, out the front door of the Institute.

Belle stormed down the streets of London, taking a shortcut to a familiar address. _He has no right to speak to me like that. If I care for Jem and he cares for me, what's the harm in kissing? Especially since that's really all we've been doing, at least for now. God, I can't even think about him anymore._ She found herself outside of a beautiful old house, walking up the stairs and knocking on the heavy oak door.

An older man answered, looking as though he was about to leave the house himself. He was dressed all in grey, matching his stormy eyes, salt-and-pepper hair and slightly greyish skin. His eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw her. "You!"

"Me," she agreed unsmilingly. "Benedict. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"What do you want?" he asked a bit rudely, but then, Benedict Lightwood was never famed for his manners.

"I'd like to see your son."

His mouth hardened into a firm line. "Michael won't–"

"I'm not here to see Michael," she interrupted. "I'm here to see Gabriel."

He looked at her suspiciously before calling, "Gabriel!" without turning around. A faint "what?" answered him.

"Get down here, you have a… visitor," he replied, a faint sneer coloring his voice. "You know, I don't think it appropriate for my son– any of my sons– to be so involved with a Downworlder such as yourself."

"You hypocrite! If even half the stories they tell about you are true–" Luckily, the sight of Gabriel appearing made Belle stop speaking and sent Benedict out the door.

"Belle?" Gabriel asked warily, unsure if it was her. Had she really changed so much in a year? He hadn't. He was still tall and slender, with the same tousled dark hair and brilliant green eyes set in an angular face. He was still quite good-looking.

She nodded, smiling. "Gabe…" she said, using her old nickname for him. "It's been a long time." She cleared her throat as he grinned.

"Missed you. It's been boring without you."

"I bet," she said with just a touch of arrogance. He waved her over, indicating she should follow him upstairs. She did, and he closed the door of his bedroom behind them.

"So," he asked after a moment's silence. "What brings you back?"

"It's about Will Herondale," she said quickly. His face turned stormy.

"What about him?" he forced out with obvious effort.

She sighed. "He's pissing me off, and I need someone I can talk to who hates him as much as I do right now. Jem's no good for that."

Gabriel nodded. "I'm your man."

"It's like, sometimes he can be a really nice guy, and we can joke around and have actual human conversations, but so much of the time he's just a– just a– God, I can't even think of a bad enough word. He's just a jerk, you know? I know you dislike him, but–"

"I don't just dislike him," he corrected. "I wish I could hate him to death."

She laughed. "I like that. Next time I see him, should I say, 'I wish I could hate you to death'?"

He shrugged. "If you want."

She grinned. "I knew you'd make me feel better," she said softly. "So what have you been up to in the year since I saw you last?"

If he noticed the abrupt change in subject, he said nothing about it. "Not much. Training, killing things, the usual. Yourself?"

"You know, the usual. Being lonely, falling in love with ten strangers a day, drinking at Angels and Demons…"

"Not a bad life, but not an altogether happy one, either, it would seem."

She shook her head, looking down at her hands. "You would be correct, sir. I'm not precisely _happy_, but it's good enough for now."

He was dissatisfied with this answer, but sort of changed the subject. "Is it true that you are… _involved_ with James Carstairs?"

Belle laughed. "It's true. Quite involved."

Gabriel looked alarmed. "How involved? You may recall it's technically illegal for a Shadowhunter and a Downworlder to be together."

"I remember," she replied darkly. "And don't be a prude, Gabe. We haven't gone much beyond kissing, so chill."

"Chill?" he asked, astonished. "Kissing leads to far more things, you know. That's how it started with you and Michael, too–"

Belle glowered. "I _don't_ wish to discuss Michael. He made his choices and I've made mine. We both have to live with it."

"And he is living with them. He got married, didn't you hear? Céline is her name, and they have a baby on the way…"

"I don't want to talk about it," she insisted, though she ached to hear more. What was this girl like? Was she pretty? Was she smart, funny, sweet? And did she in any way remind Michael of Belle? Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "is she anything like me?"

Gabriel's face softened. "I hate to say it, but… no. Very quiet, almost shy, blonde, brown eyes. Not like you in the least."

"Nothing hurts more than to see your ex be with someone the complete opposite of you. It's like he's saying, 'remember all those things I liked about you? _I lied.'_ Why did he stay with me if he falls in love with my opposite?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't pretend to understand him, even if he is my brother. We aren't very much alike, in case you didn't know."

"Of course I know. That's why I hate him– I think– but I'm still friends with you. You have a soul."

"And he doesn't?"

"No. Isn't it weird, being married to a woman with the same name as your sister?"

He shrugged. "It's a common Shadowhunter name. I'm sure it's fine for him."

Belle closed her eyes, an _"I don't want to talk about it anymore" _look on her face.

Gabriel nodded. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

She shook her head, leaning over to rest her cheek on Gabriel's shoulder. "No, but thanks for asking. I just came to rant about Will, but I think I've basically got it out now. I just want to stay here for a while."

"I think that can be arranged," he said, wrapping his arms around her. She hugged back, resting her chin in the small divot on his shoulder blade as his hands clicked into place in the hollow of her lower back. "Still fits," he murmured.

"Perfectly," she agreed. They had always fit together like two pieces to a puzzle, and apparently it was still true. She wondered why they had never considered dating. It might be because for the longest time she was with Michael, and then pining for Michael, and really it was far too soon for that sort of rebound. What was stopping them now? _Jem_, Belle remembered, _I love Jem. I don't love Gabriel, nor does he love me. We are excellent friends, though._

They stayed like that for minutes, reacquainting themselves with the feelings that had lain dormant for almost a year.


	17. Chapter 17

**Here we go! Please review! Sorry it's so short...**

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING.**

**Chapter: Belle**

Belle felt much better after her talk with Gabriel. She had missed him so much, and it felt good to just catch up, to not have to worry about anything. He was such a good listener… She was lost enough in this train of thought that she almost walked right past the Institute. As it was, the only thing that stopped her was the fact that she ran straight into someone.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," she said before she recognized the sparkling dark eyes and tousled auburn hair. "Riley! What a day, meeting up with old friends all over the place. I should visit Magnus…"

"Old friend, indeed. I haven't seen you in weeks. What other old friend have you been visiting?"

"Gabriel Lightwood."

He raised an eyebrow. "Gabriel? How did you even find him?"

She explained what had happened earlier, her and Jem being quite rudely interrupted by Will. "And Jem had given me his address earlier in the week–"

"Okay, okay, relax. I've got my answer, that's all I wanted."

Belle rolled her eyes. "_Si cela prend trop long à expliquer, vous ne s'en soucient pas, vous?"_

He frowned. "I don't speak French, you know that. Stop saying things I can't understand, it makes me feel like you're insulting me."

"All I said was, 'if it takes too long to explain, you just don't care, do you?' If you want me to insult you, I'd be delighted to." She took a deep breath, and Riley took a step back.

"I don't underestimate your impressive abilities, all right? Relax."

"Relax, relax, that's all you ever say. Don't you ever grow bored of relaxing? Don't you ever want to just, I dunno, go on a wild adventure?" she asked with a grin.

"Knowing you _is_ an adventure," he muttered. "Well, I'll see you soon? I can tell you're eager to go back and make out with your boyfriend–"

Belle whacked him in the arm. "Tomorrow, I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you then."

She left him standing there and knocked on the heavy oak doors, waiting– not very long– for someone to answer. Jem pulled it open. "Belle, you're back!"

"It would seem so. Will's not around, is he?"

"No," he said slowly, looking confused. "Did you wish to speak to him? He's out, but–"

She snorted. "What do you want me to do, search every bar and whorehouse in Downworld? I don't want to see him. Hey, if you don't mind…" She shivered. "_Il fait froid ici."_

"Yes, it's cold. Do you want a cup of tea?" He stood aside to let her come in, Belle looking amused but surprised. "I didn't know you spoke French, James."

"I know a bit. Not much." He let her trail after him to the kitchen, the scene of the morning's exploits, as he put a kettle on the stove. "So how did it go with Gabriel?"

"Well. I haven't seen him in so long… It was like nothing had changed, just for a minute." She sighed sadly; so much _had_ changed. "I could have been fifteen again, still with Michael, still friends with Elizabeth, with a still-living family…"

She shook her head. "Of course, everything is different now. I don't mind some of the changes" – she shot Jem a soft smile– "but others…" Her voice trailed off in a clear "I don't want to talk about it" way.

The kettle whistled. Jem fixed two cups of tea and handed one to Belle, who breathed in the steam like it was precious oxygen. She took a swallow, despite the blistering heat. Sometimes pain felt good.

"Belle?" Jem asked after a few minutes of silence. "Would it be quite all right if I kissed you?"

She laughed. "You have to ask?"

He rested his half-empty teacup on the counter. "I thought that after this morning, you'd want to be more careful about such things."

"Such things?" She put her own cup down. "I don't care," she murmured, throwing her arms around Jem and crushing her lips to his. He was honey-sweet, like most Shadowhunters, with a more coppery taste thrown in, like blood. It shouldn't have been as good a combination as it was. After several minutes that went by much too fast, Jem pulled back to meet her eyes. "I love you," he said in a rush.

Belle stepped away. "You– you– what?"

"I said I love you," he repeated slowly, more unsure of his decision to tell her than he had been a moment ago.

She trembled. "I don't… I don't know what to say."

"Say you love me," he whispered, eyes huge with the realization that this was nothing like he had always dreamed it would be.

"I can't," she muttered.

"Why? Why can't you?"

"Because– because– because you shouldn't love me!" Tears in her eyes, sobs escaping her throat, Belle turned and ran up to her bedroom, leaving a heartbroken and very confused Jem alone in the kitchen.


	18. Chapter 18

**Here we go! I hope everyone who was confused will be less so now... And we have a surprise! Riley gets his own chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Thine most holy characters of James and William belong to Lady Cassandra. My own poor soul be not worthy enough to possess of them.**

**Chapter: Riley**

Riley waited, as agreed, outside the Institute. He didn't know when Belle would come out, but he had time to kill. As luck would have it, shortly after daybreak the doors swung open and she hurried out, sliding her arm into a thick jacket; the wind was bitingly cold. He smiled at her, taking in her spray of dark curls and big green eyes, just as he always did; he loved beauty, and Belle was absolutely gorgeous.

Something seemed off about the way she kept her head down, and when she reached him he realized what it was. Her hair was tangled, like she had forgotten to brush it, and there were dark circles under her eyes, which were slightly pink and swollen. She looked heartbroken, like everything in her world had come crashing down.

"Belle? Belle, what's wrong? Tell me," he urged, taking her hands in his.

She shook her head. "Not here," she whispered hoarsely in a voice weak from tears. "Anywhere but here."

Riley led her to the park, where there were only a few people due to the abysmal cold front. He sat her down on a bench and angled her chin toward his face with a hand that seemed too big next to her delicate features. "What's wrong?" he repeated, feeling like his own heart was rubbed raw.

He had been in love with Belle since the day he met her. His first impression of her was that she was the most amazing girl he had ever met. As time went on, he realized he was wrong: she was the most amazing girl _anyone_ had met, could ever meet. She had never seemed to return his feelings– if she even knew how he felt– but that didn't faze him. They had eternity, and he was confident that she could learn to love him.

"Everything," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "Everything is wrong."

"I can't help if you don't tell me why you're so sad," Riley said gently. She met his eyes then, her own full of tears.

"Promise not to judge me?"

"I promise."

"Okay… Last night, well, evening, when I got back from the Lightwoods' house, Jem and I had a cup of tea. We– we kissed for a bit, he pulled away and… And he– he–" She choked, tears spilling over onto her cheeks. Riley wiped them away.

"What did he do? What happened? Did he hurt you?"

"He told me he loves me," Belle whispered like it was the worst thing in the world. Riley thought he could point out the fissure line where his heart had cracked in two. _'Cause when a heart breaks, you know it don't break even,_ he thought sadly. He tried to smile, failing in a spectacular fashion, but luckily she didn't notice.

"Well, that's good, isn't it? He loves you. It's great," he said in a horrible cheery tone that did not belong to him. "You'll be happy together."

At that, her head snapped up and she stared at him incredulously, mouth hanging open. "Don't you know me at all? This is awful! I didn't want this!"

_Do you not want it because you love someone else? Is it me? What I want to know, Belle, is if you love me the way I love you._ "Why?"

"I don't– I can't– We shouldn't– God, my love life is confusing!" she moaned, drawing her knees up to her chest and burying her face in them.

He put a comforting hand on her back. "Tell me everything. Why is your love life so confusing? Maybe– maybe talking about it will help."

She raised her head slowly, looking down. "You should know," she began, and Riley felt his hopes rise. "The night we confronted Camille– when I was talking to Magnus– he said that you… cared for me. More than as for a friend."

He bit his lip. "I don't know what to say to that, other than yes, it's true. I care for you deeply."

She jumped up, staring at him angrily. _What did I do?_ "Not you too!" she shouted. "What about me is so desirable?"

"You're clever, you have a great sense of humor, you're beautiful–"

She laughed humorlessly and threw herself back down onto the bench, as far away from Riley as she could get. "Who cares what I look like? Why does _that_ matter, of all things? Am I just a pretty face, nothing else?"

"You know that's not it!" Now he was getting agitated. "Yes, we like to look at you, but that's not why everyone loves you!"

"I hate being pretty. No one will take me seriously. Life would be easier if I–"

"If you what? Yes, life would be easier if things went the way they were supposed to, if everyone loved each other, if things were equal and fair _but they're not._ We have to go on what we've got, and you've got quite a lot to offer." Belle was quiet, which he took to be a sign that he had won the argument.

"I'm not that clever. My sense of humor is no better than anyone else's."

He threw his hands in the air. "Why do you always do this? Why do you refuse to see what the rest of us do? Why can't you just admit that you're incredible and move on?"

"_Because I'm not!_ Because I'm no better than anyone else, and I don't deserve all this attention! Because there are a thousand people– a million– better than me that Jem could be happy with! I don't deserve him," she added in a whisper.

_Ah._ They were getting to the root of the problem. "That's why you were upset that he said he loved you. Because you think you don't deserve him. You think he can do better. Why not tell him that, then? Tell him to move on."

She said nothing. "Oh," Riley said as it dawned on him. "You love him, too."

"Of course I do. He's amazing. I can't tell him he should be with someone else, because–"

"Because you think it would break you in half to do it. You're afraid he'll agree with you and find another woman to love. You know that if he did that, you would die from the pain of it all."

She looked at him in wonderment. "How do you know?"

"Experience," he said darkly. "Look, if everything I've heard about Jem is true, he doesn't care about your past. He doesn't care what you've done. He only cares about the here and now. He only cares if you love him _now_. Anything before that is irrelevant."

Belle nodded. "I guess… And then there's Will…"

"Will?" he asked, shocked. "What happened with him? Don't tell me you love him, too?"

"No, God no. We're… friends of a sort, but I don't know… Sometimes I catch him looking at me when he thinks I can't see, and the expression on his face… He's so hard to read, and I know he'd never to admit to anything that would hurt Jem, but I'm worried that he cares for me, too."

"Your love life _is_ confusing." She smiled a little for the first time. "I'd say you forget about Will and focus on Jem. If Will wants something to happen, he'll make it happen. Don't worry about him. Now, any other guys I should know about?"

"Gabriel and I are just friends. I'm one hundred percent sure he doesn't like me like that. Do I know any other guys? Oh, Magnus. No, nothing there." She stood up. "I think we're quite done here. Home?"

"Your home, not mine." Riley looked over to see more tears running down Belle's face as they walked. "Oh, no, I've made you cry again."

"It's not you, it's just…" She sighed. "Nothing. It's nothing. Just… thanks."

He nodded in a "no problem" way. He hesitated before asking the question he needed the answer to. "You know I care for you, but… I assume you don't feel the same?"

"No, Riley, and I'm sorry for that. I do love you, but… as a friend." They arrived at the Institute, where Belle reached up and kissed Riley's cold cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, and slipped back into the Institute as Charlotte walked out, looking confused,

_I should have known. What an idiot I've been, to think that she could ever love me. Oh, Belle, I hope you're happy with him, I do, because if I can't make you happy someone should._

**Chapter: Belle**

After she got in from meeting with Riley, which– despite all her fine words– didn't make her feel better, Belle crawled into her bed and refused to move. She lay in bed for three days, getting up only to use the bathroom, which, being adjacent to her room, meant she didn't have to see anyone. She had locked the door, and no matter how often people came to knock and beg her to come out, she wouldn't.

"Jem, I can't see you again," she whispered in a rehearsal to herself. "I can't love you the way you want me to. I am not nearly as good a person as you think I am, and we shouldn't be together. You should be with someone who deserves you, someone who won't break your heart one day… You deserve perfect, Jem, and I am anything but." Just saying the words to herself made her want to cry, but she couldn't. The pressure was constant behind her eyes, and her throat felt like it was clogged, but she couldn't cry. Maybe it was the knowledge that she was speaking truth.

On the third day, she lay in bed staring at the door when she thought she begun to hallucinate. Unless she was very much mistaken, the doorknob had started to spin before it emitted a puff of smoke and was still. The door swung open and Will waltzed in, looking furious.

Despite the anger on his features, he spoke gently. "Sorry, but you need to leave this room. You are to come downstairs and eat something, and you are not to return here after. If you wish, you don't have to see anyone, but you will come."

"Will I?" she said in a voice hoarse from three days disuse.

"Yes, you will."

"And if I refuse?"

"I am under orders to carry you down."

"Whose orders?"

"My own. Let's go." He picked her up carefully, and she didn't even bother to struggle. She sat limply in his arms, resting her cheek against his shoulder. Will carried her into the kitchen and sat her down in a wooden chair with a plate of food in front of it.

"Did you make these?" Belle asked, poking a pancake with her fork.

Will snorted. "Sophie did. I can't cook."

She thought about Will being under his own orders, unlocking her door with a rune, carrying her downstairs and forcing her to eat. She thought about his kindness, surprising as it was, and she was finally able to release the built-up tears she had been hoping to shed. She put her head in her hands and sobbed, crying for Will and his unwarranted sweetness, Jem, refusing to give up on her, and Sophie, making her food even when she would have been fine on her own. Mostly, though, Belle cried for herself, furiously deciding she had been quite stupid in refusing to love Jem.

Will put a tentative hand on her back. "Are you all right?"

She turned and threw her arms around him, not caring that his shirt would be soaked through with tears. He stroked her hair and let her cry, making soothing little noises of comfort.

"I– I'm sorry," she apologized with a hiccup a few minutes later. "I haven't been able to cry in a few days, and I needed that. You didn't have to…"

"If Jem cares for you, I will treat you like I do him. And he cares very much for you. I can't let you starve."

"Some people would."

"I had no choice. You're in love with my best mate. I have to make you presentable, at least. Come on, then, eat. If you want to see Jem after, I'll take you to him. If not… I'll still take you to him. You two need to talk."

Belle smiled despite herself. "Will… I owe you one."

"Yes, you do."

**Please tell me that made sense. And REVIEW!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Sorry this chapter is short, the next one'll be longer. IMPORTANT NOTICE FROM ME TO YOU: People! I would very much like to know that people are reading this! I don't care what you thought about it, as long as you tell me! Please review it!**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, something about owning nothing...**

**Chapter: Jem**

Jem was in his bedroom, playing his violin. He faced the window with his eyes closed as he drew the bow back and forth against the strings, playing a high, haunting melody, something sad and lonely, but maybe a little bit hopeful as well. He was in his element, but when he neared the end of his song and he came back to reality, he was aware of a presence in the room behind him.

"Will?" he asked, assuming it was him. "Will, is that you?"

"Do I look like Will Herondale to you?" a voice said feebly, a voice that was definitely not Will's. Jem spun around and opened his eyes, shocked to recognize Belle's voice. She hovered in the doorway, looking tired, with her hair piled on top of her head and dark shadows circled under her eyes. She managed a small smile. "Will dragged me out of room and forced me to eat. I took a shower, and… well, here I am."

Jem slowly laid his violin on his bureau and took a tentative step toward her, having trouble believing that she was really there. "Belle," he breathed. "I don't know what to say…"

"You could say you missed me," she whispered, holding her arms out. Jem rushed into them, picking her up and swinging her around. He buried his face in her neck, and when he spoke, his voice was muffled.

"I missed you more than I could even say. I'm so sorry for what happened, I didn't mean to spring anything on you, it just sort of slipped out and–"

"Jem," Belle said with a quiet laugh, "has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"

He pulled away and blushed. "No, but–"

"Hush," she ordered, covering his mouth with one small hand. "I should be apologizing to you, okay? I overreacted. I just… I didn't know what to do. Look, can we sit down? We need to talk about this." She untangled herself from Jem and sat on his bed, patting the spot next to her in an invitation.

"I should start by saying this," she began hesitantly. "I am not used to being in this position. I mean, I've been in love before– if I can say that I loved Michael Lightwood, and I think I did– but this is… different. I don't know how or why, but it is. The second thing I need to say is that I'm having so much trouble with this because in all honesty, I don't deserve you. You deserve perfect, and I am not anywhere close to perfect."

Jem took her hand. "I don't want perfect. I want _you_."

Belle ignored him, but she smiled. "The last thing I should tell you is that… I love you, too, and that scares me. I don't want to hurt you, and I need to let you know, I _will_ break your heart someday."

"I don't care, I really don't. As long as you love me…" He leaned over and kissed her softly. She kissed him back, tangling her hands in the front of his shirt as his arms wrapped around her waist. She was bittersweet, being half-demon and half-angel, like the darkest chocolate and oranges. He wondered if all faeries were like that or if it was just her, but before he could think about it too much, he felt warm hands on the bare skin of his chest.

He gasped and broke the kiss, looking down; sometime when he wasn't paying attention, Belle had undone the buttons on his shirt. "Do you mind that–" she started, but he swallowed the words as he covered her mouth with his again. He felt her hands shove the shirt over his shoulders and remove it altogether, which didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. He enjoyed it, actually, but didn't know how to return the favor.

Fortunately he didn't have to. This time she pulled away and stood up, slipping her own shirt over her head and taking her hair down from the loose bun it had been in. She jumped back onto Jem's bed, scooting up against his headboard and beckoning him over. Gulping, with butterflies in his stomach, he crawled over her and kissed her again.

Some force, be it Fate or hormones, was controlling Jem's every move, which granted him some relief. He had no idea what he was doing when he slid his tongue along her lower lip, asking for entrance, but she granted it. He hoped she couldn't tell that he had no experience and was groping around in the dark, but he was sure she knew, even though she said nothing and just wound her hands through the silky strands of his silver hair.

Everything had been going better than expected until she moved her hands from his head and ran them down his back. Her fingers were dipping dangerously close to his belt, which was where he drew the line.

"No– no–" he panted, scrambling up and grabbing his shirt. "We can't…"

Belle sat up, her lips swollen, her chest heaving. "Why not?"

"Because– you're not thinking straight, you're emotionally not…" His voice trailed off when he saw the pain on her face. She picked up her own shirt.

"It's fine if you don't want to be with me, you know," she said in a scarily calm voice.

"No, that's not it! I just mean– well, you've been through a lot lately, and I'm not going to take advantage of that. If, in a few days, you still want to… Well, you know where I am."

She bit her lip and nodded. "Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking. I might take you up on that offer, though, so I hope you meant it."

"I did."

"Good. And Jem?"

"Yeah?"

"I– I do love you."

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Love you too."


	20. Chapter 20

**Wow, yeah, so... I was gone FOREVER. I've been busy, ya know! Spending almost two weeks in Vermont without my computer, a bunch of AP work for school as well as working 40 hours a week at my job means that I couldn't update. That and I had no idea what to write. Well, I hope no one hates me, and I have it now.**

**Disclaimer: i actually own most of this, but only most. Not all.**

**Chapter: Belle**

It was an enormous relief to Belle to know that she had finally straightened everything out, her feelings and such. It was so different from what she had with Michael Lightwood; she didn't doubt that it was still love, but this was a different love. With Michael, she was thrilled to find herself falling in love, feeling new things, experiencing everything. Every little thing was new and exciting. With Jem, it wasn't as though new feelings were being created. It was like she had always felt these things, always loved him, and every moment was just being uncovered.

_Like drawing with a stele,_ she thought. She had seen Shadowhunters scrawling their runes, and it was not like ink flowing from a pen. It was like the Mark was there the entire time, and the stele was just uncovering it.

She twirled in a lazy circle, closing her eyes and holding her arms out like a child, imagining that she could fly if she wished hard enough. _I'm already flying_, she swore, and indeed she felt like she walked on air. From the room across the hall she heard Jem moving around, though it sounded like he had knocked something over. _Weird, he's usually so graceful._ She heard a large thump and the sound of something shattering, followed by the unmistakable sound of coughing.

Her heart stopped. Ice flowed through her veins, her stomach clenched, and a tingling shiver ran down her spine. Just as she wrenched the door open, wild-eyed, she saw Jem's door shut with just a small creak and a flash of darkest hair. _Will has it under control,_ she reminded herself forcefully. _There's nothing you can do. Just stay here and try to get some sleep._

She tried, she really did. It was a valiant effort, but when the clock struck eleven and she was horribly awake, Belle knew it was not happening. She crawled out of bed and dressed hurriedly, trading her pajamas for jeans and a soft black sweater. _I am in mourning._

Everyone was either in bed or out, because she met no resistance as she padded down the staircase and out the door, not hesitating for even a minute. The air was thick with moisture and smog; it was going to rain, and sure enough, she had barely turned the corner when the clouds opened up and released a torrential downpour. _Great, just great._ Though her destination was not far away, she got soaked to the bone, her hair hanging in a straight black curtain to her waist.

She reached the townhouse by the Thames and knocked. Magnus answered, looking surprisingly awake for almost midnight. "Save him," Belle choked out, the rain mixing with tears on her cheeks. Magnus asked no questions, just stepped to the side and let her in.

"Now," he asked when she was safely in front of the roaring fire, "what can I do for you?"

"Jem, it's Jem. I need you to help me, to save him, because I love him and I can't live without him." She didn't dissolve into sobs, though she wanted to. This was so much more important than her own emotional stability.

His face softened. "I've looked, love. I can't perform miracles."

"There has to be something you can do! There's never _nothing!_"

"I…" He bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair. "I have a… theory. Nothing more, and it probably wouldn't work, but if you are willing to take the risk, we can try it."

She lunged toward him and grabbed his shirtfront. "I will do anything," she proclaimed. "I will do anything under Heaven."

"You don't believe in Heaven."

"But you do." Her eyes were beseeching him to tell her his idea. She looked so hopelessly _broken_ that he folded.

"Sit," he ordered, and she obeyed. "I had an idea that we could fight fire with fire. That is, we could give him the poison from another Greater Demon, they might cancel each other out. But it's dangerous. He could die from an overdose of poison, or he might become addicted to the new poison, or nothing might happen. Of course, even procuring the poison would be difficult enough. It's not easy to convince a Greater Demon of anything, and the price would be incalculable. It gets worse. The only demon I think we could go to is the most powerful demon of them all."

"Nyx," Belle recalled softly. "The Greater Demon that controls the Shadows." The Shadowhunters were born out of a heavenly mandate to kill Nyx– that was why their ancestor, Jonathan Shadowhunter, was given his last name. He and his descendants were meant to hunt shadows, literally. "Do you think we have a chance of persuading it to help us?"

"Not for free, but I think we have a chance, however infinitesimal it is. Why did you come to me now? You always knew Jem was sick."

"He's worse. I can't lose him, Magnus. I have lost everything but you and Riley, and I can't lose him, too."

"He's a mortal," Magnus explained sadly. "You are immortal. You were always going to lose him."

"Not now," she whispered. "I will save him, and if I have to make a metaphorical deal with the Devil to do it, I will. Of course, by 'Devil' I mean Nyx, and by 'metaphorical' I mean get your coat." She stood up and shook her hair back, defiance and stubbornness written on every line of her face.

Magnus sighed. "What am I going to do with you?" He did, however, follow her to the door and step out. The rain had left as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the air crisp and clear. He scoped the area and decided they needed a quiet, private, dark place, the more shadows the better. He dragged Belle down to some of the more abandoned alleys of London.

"You're taking this very calmly, you know," he stated. "I told you I think I found the cure to your true love's addiction by overdosing him with poison, and we're on our way to get it by persuading a Greater Demon to hand it over. How are you so relaxed?"

"I'm doing what feels right for once. I am going to save him, and I am secure in my own ability." She stopped dead when Magnus did, almost running into him. "Hey!"

He said nothing but looked around, eventually squatting down to trace a pentagram in the dirt. As he did, he chanted in the warlock language Chthonian, which sounded like crackling flames. Soon, a chill breeze swept through the alley, making Belle shiver in her damp clothes. The shadows seemed restless, making pictures on the bricks of the building in front of her, grotesque and horrifying scenes of murder and destruction. At one point a grinning skull was clearly visible.

_You dare summon me, warlock?_ Nyx's voice was cold and empty, the hoarse roughness of a knife scraping against stone. Somehow the sound reminded Belle of her childhood, of the darkness in her bedroom, and privately she felt that she was right; there was good reason to be scared of the dark.

_Of course there is reason to be afraid of the shadows, faerie. The darkness can be more profound than many realize. What do you request of me? _Its words were humble, but its tone suggested sheer mockery, nothing more.

She swallowed, her tongue thick in her mouth. "I– I ask something of you," she stuttered, tripping over the simple words. "There's a friend of mine, and he's dying of an addiction to the poison of the Greater Demon Yanluo."

_Surely you don't think I will save him? This is a waste of time._

"I don't think you'll do it for free, but I think you'll do it if I offer payment."

There was a short pause. _You are no extraordinary being. I am the oldest and most powerful of the demons. What can one such as yourself offer?_

Belle considered it. "Anything," she breathed shortly after. "I will do anything to save him."

_Would you offer your own life?_

"I…" She wanted to straighten her spine and confidently declare that of course she would, and in theory she would. However, in practice, the decision was harder. She wanted Jem to live so that she would spend forever with him, but here the choice was eternity with her alive and him not, or he lives in return for her death. Surely he was more important than her? Who would mourn her? Magnus and Riley, certainly, but they were immortal. They would find new friends and forget her.

Everyone would miss Jem when he was gone. Hell, he and Will were one and the same; one of their deaths would initiate the other's. When she looked at it that way, what was the choice? Life for two boys that could contribute so much in return for the death of a nameless faerie girl.

Yes, they were more important than she. Their lives were a thousand times more important than hers. She lived for Jem, and what was the point of living for something if you would not die for it?

"I offer my life."

Magnus stopped his chanting long enough to yell, "Belle! You idiot, _think_ for once!"

"I am thinking, Magnus. This is my choice. If I offer my life, you will save Jem?"

_A life for a life. One must be taken for one to be saved. You must be willing; I will not take your soul if you struggle or have cold feet. You must embrace Death, and if you do so, I will save your friend._

"You're all about the balance, after all. All right, I agree. Just… make it quick, won't you?"

She could have sworn that the demon laughed. _I will not do it now. Because I am merciful, I will give you exactly ten days to finalize the bargain. Ten days from tonight you will meet me here. I will leave the cure with your warlock and take your life as my payment. Is this the deal you wish to agree to?_

Belle took a deep breath and hid her trembling lip. "I, Isabella Renault, agree to your bargain. I will be here in ten days."

_Then we have no more to say to one another, no?_

Magnus spoke louder and more rapidly, spells of banishment. When he was confident than Nyx was gone, he whirled to face Belle. "You stupid bitch, do you realize what you've done?"

"I've saved Jem and, by extension, Will! I've given up something useless for something infinitely more valuable!"

"Your life isn't _useless_! When the hell did you start caring about Will Herondale, anyway?"

"I care for him because I see the good in him! He's a brilliant Shadowhunter, they both are, but what am I?"

"You're Belle," he said in a soft tone, much less angrily. Perhaps he saw the tears that pricked her eyes, or the way her hands shook. Perhaps he saw that although she was sure she had made the right call, she was absolutely terrified. "You're my Belle. I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to die, okay? But if it's a choice between me or them, they win. I thought I'd have forever, and ten days is a hell of a lot less time then I always thought. I never wanted it to end like this, but don't you_ see_? I love him more than I love my own life. He'll find another girl, he can start a family! He'll stop loving me," she said with an air of finality, pretending her voice didn't shake.

"No, he won't," Magnus murmured. "He loves you, but you've made your choice. I can't change that, but come here, okay?" He pulled her into his arms and held her, kissing the top of her head and trying to force himself not to cry. He felt her quiver and realized she was trying to do the same thing, which for some reason made him laugh, however shaky it was. "You go home. Go to him, hold him, tell him you love him, and pretend that you aren't saying goodbye."

"At least there's one good thing," Belle said in a whisper. "Sacrificing myself like this would get me into Heaven, right? And that's where he'll end up someday, so I can see him then." She smiled weakly, and Magnus saw past the uncertain exterior to the heart of gold she hid so often. He imagined her with feathered wings, being the angel she always was to him.

"Good night," he said abruptly, pulling away, wrapping his jacket tighter around him and striding home. Belle watched him until he was out of sight before running back to the Institute. She flew up to Jem's room, not even stopping to change clothes.

He was of course asleep, curled up on his side facing the door, looking pale and ill. She almost cried, the suddenness of it all finally hitting her, but instead she crawled into his bed and wrapped her arms around him from behind, burying her face into the silver hair curling up at the nape of his neck. She wanted to tell him she loved him, but the words wouldn't come. Instead all she could do was sob, "I'm sorry," before finally falling into a deep sleep.

**Um, yeah. Don't hate, but review?**


	21. Chapter 21

**Here's some fluff, some expectations of smut to come, and some back story. I hope it's all right. Review?**

**Disclaimer: As much as I hate C Squared for making me read the Jessa kiss, I thank her for giving me my characters.**

**Chapter: Jem**

Jem woke up to the feeling of a warm body curved around him. He tried to twist his head around to see who it was, but a sudden stabbing pain behind his eyes made him wince. All he saw was a flash of black hair, and his first thought was that Will, being the kind soul that he was, had fallen asleep trying to keep Jem warm when Jem shook with feverish chills. It had happened before.

When he had untangled himself and stood up, he saw with a pang of recognition the small, anxious face and slender body in an hourglass shape that most certainly did not belong to Will. "Belle!" he said before he could stop himself. _She's asleep,_ he scolded himself.

Not anymore. She sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands before squinting blearily at his face. "Jem… You're awake."

"No, I'm still asleep. I was surprised to see you, I thought you were Will."

"Of course it's me, you idiot. Why would Will be in your bed?"

Jem shrugged. "Long story. He can get a bit… carried away trying to get me well after an attack."

"Oh, yes, you were ill again. How– how are you now?" She looked terribly concerned, as though she had just remembered something she had tried to forget. "Are you all right?" She jumped up and went to his side, her eyes searching his, scrutinizing him for signs of sickness.

"I'm fine," he lied; he wasn't healthy, yet, but he was well enough for _her._ He always was. "I should be asking you that, you look awful." It was true. Her eyes were hollow and dark, her skin was paler than usual, and she looked tortured, as though something was tearing her apart from the inside.

"Thanks," she said dryly, the corner of her mouth quirking up the tiniest bit. "Look, I know I'm a mess, but… I… I have my reasons, can you accept that?"

"Of course," he said smoothly, dying to know her secret but knowing better than to push the issue. He ran a hand through his hair– still matted in places with dried blood– and rubbed his jaw, which was rough and unshaven. "I'll be back in a bit, okay? Hold on." He wasn't sure why she needed to hold on, but he grabbed a change of clothes and went into the bathroom.

He braced himself by tightening his hands on the porcelain edge of the sink and stared into the mirror. He hardly recognized the boy there– a boy still, slender and fine-featured with innocence in his eyes. The boy in the mirror had hair that shined the bright color of mercury, his eyes like pewter, his skin like the inside of a shell, pale and smooth.

"God, Jem," he murmured to himself. "You're a wreck." Scars, rune-, demon- and Church-inflicted were faintly visible on his hands and neck. There was blood in his hair and a red mark on his chest where his jade pendant had cut in. Suddenly unable to look at his reflection anymore, Jem changed quickly and washed up before heading back into his own room.

The expression on Belle's face confirmed his worst suspicions; with the circles under his eyes and his unshaven face, he looked like Will after a night of drinking. "You liar," he said gently, sitting on the edge of his bed and patting the spot next to him. "You're not okay. You're upset. I wish I knew why, but I don't. I look at you and think that I should know, I should know why you are the way you are, but I have no idea. I don't really know you at all, do I?"

"You know enough," she implored, sitting next to him and taking his hand. "Why does any of it matter? Why do you need to know?"

"Because I love you! I want to know everything about you, I want to know what your childhood was like, your family, the places you went… How did you meet Magnus? You told me once that your father fled the country with you and your family, but where did you go? How did you end up in London? And how did you find your way into my bed last night?"

"As to the last question, the only answer you will get is that I didn't want to be alone. As for the others…" She bit her lip. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Of course."

"Then prepare yourself. If I'm talking about myself, I'm telling you everything."

"Go ahead. What was your life like growing up? What was your family like?"

She laughed without much humor. "My father was… something else. He was the mad-scientist type. He could never sit still, and he never let my brother or I sit still either. Always we were studying, learning, fooling around with one experiment or another. I didn't have a proper childhood, and I was raised much more like a mundane that a faerie. The faeries didn't want much to do with us after they found out what my father did, his experiments on children.

"I think he loved us, in his own way. He never let anything hurt us, that's for sure, but I think after my mother died he resented his decision to perform those experiments on us, and as such, resented us a bit. He wasn't a good father, but… Well, sometimes I miss him. I remember his laugh, remember seeing him dance with my mother…

"My brother Matthew was four years my senior. He was a fighter, physically, so I got into a lot of fistfights with him when I was young. He remembers our mother more than I do, so in our rare moments of familial affection he'd tell me about her." She looked down at her hands, twisting in her lap. "We haven't had one of those moments in a long time.

"When we left London, I was two years old. We went to New York, maybe I told you that once, I don't know anymore. We lived there until I was ten, when we moved to Paris. It was kind of sudden, so I think my father messed around with things too deep for him again, but he never told us, so I don't know. I lived in Paris until he died– an experiment gone wrong, Matt said– and so I came here. My father always said we were never to go back to London, I think because he had never gotten over losing my mother here. He loved her, despite all his faults.

"I honestly don't remember my mother very well. My father always said I looked like her, and had her sense of humor, so I suppose she lives on in me a bit. She always called me 'Bella', so that's what my father called me after she died. Before that he called me by my full name, which is Isabella. My mother named me that. 'Isa' means 'laughter' and 'Bella' means 'beautiful', so I suppose she wanted to give me an uplifting name. I was Bella until I went to France, where 'beautiful' is 'Belle', so I became Belle."

Jem took a few deep breaths and tried to absorb all this information. It was nice, Belle finally sharing herself with him. "Your real name is Isabella?"

She laughed again, a real laugh this time. "Of course that's the piece of information you'd cling to. Yeah, that's my real name. Isabella Marie Renault. Don't you dare call me Isabella, though, or I'll kick your ass. I'm still Belle."

"Of course you are. You've always been the same Belle. I just know who that is now. So how did you get tangled in the affairs of Shadowhunters? Where does Magnus come in?"

"Well, I was thirteen when I found an invitation to one of his famous parties. Literally found: it was just laying on the ground. I hadn't met many other Downworlders before, no Shadowhunters and no warlocks, so I was determined to go. I snuck out– easy enough, my father didn't pay enough attention for it to matter– and went to the party.

"I had heard of Magnus before, and he wasn't a hard person to miss. He noticed me, mostly because people like me don't frequent his parties and I was a bit younger than everyone else there. A lot younger, actually. There were no werewolves because the vampires were there, so with the attendees all being immortals– the Night's Children, a few warlocks, and the Fair Folk– I was by far the youngest.

"We sort of hit it off as friends, and I became a regular at his house. It was there, a few months later, that I met Michael Lightwood, but you already know _that_ story. After him… Well, life went on until I found my way here." Belle had to catch her breath, her chest heaving. "I'm not used to telling people so much about myself."

"Well, I'm glad it was me you told. Anything else you think I should know?"

"Let's see…" She screwed up her face in mock concentration. "My favorite color is green, I love pomegranates, and there's nothing I'd rather do then spend the night with someone I love."

"That can be arranged," Jem blurted out, his face heating up alarmingly fast. "I mean, since you've shared so much of myself, I thought I'd return the favor. You know, with the sharing of myself."

"Oh, James," she sighed. "I'd love to, but are you sure you're–"

"Well enough? Positive. I'll be fine tonight, I promise you." He said it so emphatically that he almost believed it. He was better, but he still felt he had to prove that he wasn't the delicate china doll everyone thought he was. _Everyone but Will,_ he corrected in his mind. Will saw him fight; Will helped him after an attack; Will alone knew how strong Jem was, even after he was ill.

She still looked doubtful, so he kissed her softly. "Come on," he breathed. "For me?"

If he didn't know better, he'd say that her eyes were filled with tears. "Anything for you," she whispered, closing her eyes and pressing her lips to his once again.

**Chapter: Will**

Will strode up to Magnus's front door, grumbling all the while. He waltzed in without knocking and found Magnus sitting alone in the darkness of his living room. Will flipped a light on. "Here's your… whatever it is," he said, tossing the warlock a small vial of scarlet powder and throwing himself in an armchair. "Remind me why _I_ was doing your errands today?"

"Because I'm busy," Magnus said in a constricted voice.

"Yeah, it looks it. Look, I don't particularly care why you're depressed, but I have the feeling you'll keep 'needing' me until I ask, so I will, because I want to get back to Jem. What's wrong?"

"I can't tell you."

"Can't tell me like you think I won't understand, or can't tell me like you promised someone you wouldn't?"

"Neither. Well, I suppose the second one. I'm not supposed to tell _someone_, but you aren't that someone. You'd tell that someone, though."

"Glad to see you have such a high opinion of me," Will said wryly. "Just tell me. I can keep a secret."

Magnus sighed aggrievedly. "You can't tell Jem, no matter what."

"Jem?" Will said, taken aback. "I'm intrigued. All right, I won't tell him. What's your secret?"

"It's about… Belle." Without any more prompting from Will, Magnus launched into the whole story of the night before, starting with his idea and ending with Belle's deal with Nyx. "So now that foolish girl's got until next week before, well…"

Will felt as though time had stopped. His heart beat irregularly, his brain was sluggish, and his blood froze in his veins. He was filled with the same panic as when Jem got one of his attacks, which recently had gotten more frequent. "Belle's going to… die?"

"Isn't that what I just said, Shadowhunter? I don't like it either, but there's nothing we can do. It's too late for anything we could do."

"What if I did it instead?" Will jumped up. "I could do it, I would. I could… I could go to Nyx now, and ask to sacrifice myself in her place–"

"No, Will, you couldn't. For one thing, she'd kill you herself. For another, this is a binding contract. And…" He stood up and walked slowly to put his hand on Will's shoulder. "She did this for you, at least in part. She knew that if Jem died, you would die too, and she reasoned that her life was less important than that of two great Shadowhunters. She saved your life as well as Jem's."

Will shook with righteous anger and uncontrollable moroseness. "I don't want to lose her," he whispered, and he knew it was true. Of course Jem's life meant more than Belle's, more than his own, even, but the thought of losing Belle so soon after getting to know her made him sick.

"Of course," Magnus said soothingly. "You love her." It wasn't a question, and he managed to keep the surprise out of his voice. _Yeah, I'm in love,_ Will though savagely. _Surprising as it is, it's real, and I don't care how many other guys she has in her life. I. Love. Her._

"I have to go," Will said abruptly. "Thanks for telling me, I think." He turned, shrugging off Magnus's hand and striding off towards the Institute. He mused as he walked, his thoughts filled with shadowy demons, golden light that he thought was Heaven, a dark-haired Jem, and a tombstone with Belle's name on it. Maybe there wouldn't be a grave. What did Downworlders do with their dead? There might not even be a body…

These thoughts were enough to keep him occupied enough to keep him from crying. They also distracted him so thoroughly that he was outside Jem's bedroom door before he realized where he was. He went in without invitation, and sure enough, there was Belle, her arms around Jem.

Will cleared his throat, and they jumped apart. "I talked to Magnus," he said in a strangled voice. Belle shook her head behind Jem, eyes wide, and Jem just looked confused. "Just… thank you."

That was all he could say before he had to walk out. He didn't even want a drink. He just wanted to lay down and cry, which was exactly what he did. He threw himself down on his bed, buried his face in his pillow, and sobbed for the first time since he left home at age twelve.

**...Yeah. Turmoil and angst.**


	22. Chapter 22

**I am SO sorry that it took so long to get this out, and I'm sorry if it sucks and kinds seems like a filler. It's meant to convey that weird everything's-normal-but-it's-not feeling. So, here goes. *Deep breath***

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Chapter: Belle**

Belle groaned softly when Will left. _I can't __**believe**__ he almost told Jem what I did! I can't believe Magnus told him! I should kill them both._ She ran her hands through her hair.

"Belle, what was that about?" Jem asked warily, his face a mask of pure confusion. "What did he mean, 'thank you'? What did you do for him?"

_Saved your life._ "I have no idea. I think he's drunk; he said something last night about needing a drink." She tried to make her face the picture of innocence, but realized it looked unnatural. She was never innocent.

"He must have had a lot to drink to still be drunk at _this_ time of day," Jem chuckled, obviously believing the story. That made Belle feel worse, having him believe her lies because he loved and trusted her.

"Well, you know Will. Completely unpredictable. So, er, where were we before he barged in?"

If Jem noticed the abrupt change in subject, he said nothing. "I think," he murmured, shooting covert glances down at her slightly parted lips, "that we were…"

Belle pressed her mouth to his again, kissing him gently. "We were here, I believe."

"Well, I was going to say 'we were about to go downstairs for a cup of tea', but I think I like your idea better."

"I like my idea better, too. In fact, I've got a better one." She slid her hands under his shirt and stroked the skin of his chest, pressing her lips to the side of his throat, the hard ridge of his collarbone, and back to his mouth. He groaned very softly, which only spurred her on, prompting her to pull the shirt over his head and toss it aside.

He returned the favor, his fingers teasing the hem of her dark sweater, and after that neither quite knew how their clothes vanished so quickly. One minute his shirt was off, and then most of his clothes; one second she was fully dressed, the next, she was practically nude.

"Come on, Jem," she demanded, pushing him to lie on his back on the bed as she crawled over him. "You still sure about this?"

He lifted his head slightly, his eyes half-closed and his lips swollen. "Surely you're joking. Just… get it over with already, why don't you?"

"Get it over with?" Belle stood and planted her hands on her hips. "I am not going to 'get it over with' if you say that. I will make it long, drawn-out, and torturous."

"Please don't," he begged. "I'm serious. I don't mean that it's something unpleasant that needs to be dealt with quickly. I just mean that…" He burned with a blush. "I can't hold out much longer," he whispered finally.

She giggled. "Oh, Jem, this is why I love you. You're so innocent."

"Not for much longer," he argued.

"True," she agreed, crawling back over him and kissing him quickly, hooking her fingers in the waistband of his boxers and tugging them down. She did him a favor and removed the rest of her clothes herself– she saw that his hands were shaking– and kissed him one last time. "Ready, love?"

"Sure. I always thought my first time would be a bit more romantic than this, but I'm still with you, which has to count for something. Right?"

"When you reach my advanced age, James," Belle began loftily, "you will realize than the when, where, why, and even how become meaningless. It's the who that matters. You're lucky to have _me_, which is all it comes down to at the end of the day."

"It's not even the end of the day. It's noon. And you're younger than me."

"So literal."

"Oh, right, I guess I should agree that I'm lucky to have you and wish that you feel similarly about me. That's all." He waved his hand. "Proceed."

"I do love you, Jem."

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked up at her, his eyes soft. "And I love you." Not ten seconds later, with sunlight streaming through the windows and Will in the room next door, the two of them joined as one for the first time.

**Chapter: Will**

When Will managed to contain himself, he got up and opened a window. Breathing in the metallic London air made him feel so much better. A pop and crackle from behind him made him jump, and when he whirled around, he saw a piece of paper flutter to the ground, still smoking slightly– a fire message from Magnus. He scanned it quickly, a crease between his eyebrows deepening with every word.

He hated it. He hated being reminded of what Belle was doing, what she had sold herself for. It would be worth it, of course, in the long run; he would never love anyone as much as he loved Jem, but that didn't make the pain go away. He was so _dramatic,_ he thought to himself, such a terribly dark sort of romantic. He was Nephilim– everything was life or death to him.

Though all he wanted was to listen to Jem playing sad, haunting music on the violin, Will knew he had plans to make. He would do as Magnus suggested for tomorrow night, because by the time the _real_ occasion came around… Belle's eighteenth birthday would be a week from tomorrow, but by then she wouldn't be–

"Stop it," he scolded himself aloud. "It will do you no good to dwell on such things. Stop playing the wounded one and go do something nice for her." He wondered where she was; would Jem know? Probably.

As was his custom, he walked in without knocking, only to find Jem asleep. With Will's luck, of course, he wasn't alone. Rather, Belle was curled up at his side, also asleep, and it was fairly obvious what had just gone down between them. _Way to give me a heads up,_ he thought angrily, storming out of the room and trying to pretend that he wasn't sad and jealous instead of angry. He pondered whether either of them would think to tell him later; Belle, probably not, but surely Jem would… After all, he, Will, came home and informed Jem at once the first time _he_ laid with a girl, when they were fifteen.

How pathetic he was. He wanted to drink, and drink, and drink, the kind of drunk when he forgot his own name, let alone remembered that he was in love with his best friend's girlfriend.

"I should be happy for Jem," Will muttered as he paced the hallway. "I should be happy that he's in love, and might get the chance to have a proper family –" That thought stopped dead; Belle was not going to be the one Jem started a family with.

He felt more pathetic and lonely. Maybe he _should_ get that drink, find a pretty girl, take her upstairs, and pretend for just a little while that he could love her. Pretend that he hadn't a care in the world. Pretend that she was Belle… _Which is the most pathetic thing of all._

**Chapter: Jem**

Jem woke up countless hours later to a slender pair of arms clenched tightly around his midsection and a tumble of dark curls flipped over his shoulder. Amused and satisfied, he tried not to move, but Belle stirred not long after. It was like they had some sort of connection, waking at the same time. He wondered if she thought of him as often as he thought of her.

"Morning, love," he said softly, just in case she wasn't really awake.

"Mm, g'morning, James," she yawned. "So?"

"So what?"

"_So_, feel any different?"

He thought carefully. Did he? He felt happy, very happy, and content. He was more in love than he thought he could be. "I suppose, but not particularly. I just feel… connected to you. Do you know what I mean?"

"I do," she confirmed. "Look, if you don't mind, I'm going to take a shower. I feel sweaty and still gross from being in the rain."

"When were you in the rain?" he asked with a faint air of suspicion. Had it been last night? Must've been. She hadn't said anything, just that she wanted to be with him instead of alone. Why was she out in the rain so late at night?

"Last night," she said slowly, almost guiltily. He felt bad for not trusting her, but he wished she had said something. "I went out to see Magnus, because I needed a walk and he was the only one I knew would be up so late, and I got caught in the rain on my way back."

He nodded. "Just don't get sick, eh? I couldn't bear it if something happened to you." She had gotten out of bed, and for a moment her face screwed up into something like physical pain.

"I'd be more worried about something happening to _you_," she said quietly, her face smoothing out again. "You know I'd do anything for you, right?"

"More like I'd do anything for you."

Her lower lip trembled. "I can't lose you, Jem. I want you to know that I would do anything to save you."

Where had _this_ come from? Was she worried because he was ill the night before? "That's not necessary," he said in a would-be light tone. "There's no cure, you know, and I'd hate for you to waste time looking."

She swallowed hard, nodded, and still looked as though she was going to cry. "I'm going to save you," she whispered, before disappearing into the bathroom. Moments later the water started running.

Jem sat up, puzzled. What had gotten into her? Going out at all hours of the night, returning soaking wet, crawling into bed with him still dressed, and managing to convince him to lose his virtue. Not that he had needed much persuading… Perhaps it _was_ all because of the night before. Perhaps she really did worry. She seemed so tough and capable that he had to make himself remember that she was human, too– well, almost. She was delicate under her armor.

Which was exactly what worried him about her… And exactly why he loved her.

**I beg you to tell me if it sucks.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Yes, yes, this is short and I haven't posted in forever, but I'm kind of grounded. I snuck this off at 1 AM, so it might be a while before the next chapter comes up. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Chapter: Will**

Will Herondale did not like to be touched. Charlotte's well-meaning hugs were borne in stony silence; Jem's would-be comforting hand on his shoulder was shrugged off; Belle's touch made him want so much more that he had to pull away. He supposed it had to do with the fact that touching meant affection, affection he knew he did not deserve.

He only allowed himself to be touched for an hour at the most, when he made his way to the brothels. _That_ act was not affectionate at all. Passionate, yes, but affectionate, never. Not like that. Which, of course, made him especially depressed to see Belle and Jem touching at breakfast.

Nothing hardcore of course, which probably would have elicited some projectile vomiting, but they _were_ facing each other, their knees _were_ pressed together, and they _were_ holding hands. Specifically, Belle held one of Jem's hands in both her own, examining it steadily as he spoke.

It made Will quite uncomfortable, but he watched on. He saw the twin pale faces bent together so as to whisper, silver locks tangling with black curls, her slender hands stroking Jem's scarred palm.

Jem leaned forward even more to murmur one last something into Belle's ear, which made her smile shyly before their lips met softly, fleetingly. The next second they were back to speaking in hushed tones, about what, Will could only guess. Everything and nothing, he supposed.

"Well," he drawled in the exact tone that so irritated Jem and really, everyone else as well, "not that anyone cares, but I'm off."

Three months ago, Jem would have requested to come with, or at the very least inquired as to his destination. As it was, he barely looked away from Belle to say, "Be back before dinner, Charlotte has some announcement she wants you to hear."

Well, that was to be expected, Will thought. Jem had more important things to worry about, though he didn't even know it. The light in his eyes wasn't dimmed, which was how Will knew Belle hadn't shared her news. He didn't think she ever would, but he could always ask her that night. He had plans, because, as Magnus informed him, her eighteenth birthday was in a week. However, she might not even be around at that point, or if she was, she would be too consumed with her upcoming task to want to think about such a menial date.

Will took it upon himself to do something nice for his best friend's true love, because he knew Jem would thank him someday. Jem would never forgive Will if he knew he latter had a chance to make his girl happy and didn't take it. Of course, Jem might not forgive Will for telling him about Belle's decision… or for not trying to stop her.

These thoughts and a thousand more, all in a similar vein, tumbled over and over in Will's mind until he thought he might go mad with the pain of it all. He walked as fast as he could to the nearest brothel and slept with a girl whose name he didn't bother to learn, a girl who looked nothing at all like Jem's Belle, a girl who could help him forget the pain if only for a moment.

**Chapter: Belle**

After breakfast, Belle followed Jem to his bedroom. Until that moment, she hadn't noticed the French doors that led to a little balcony outside, but that's where he took her. They spread out on the balcony's floor and looked up at the grey masses of clouds, hoping it wouldn't begin to rain.

"You know," Jem said after a long length of silence, "I almost have trouble thinking of you as one of the fey; is that odd?"

"No," she said with a laugh. "I look and act like a mundane, don't I?"

"You're a damn sight nearer than any mundane I've ever met, and you act more like a Shadowhunter than a mundane."

She thought about that. "No," she said again. "I'm quite in touch with the mundane world, you know, and my knowledge of the Shadowhunter world only comes from the Lightwoods. As for my looks… I thank you, but do I look like any other faerie you've seen?"

She didn't have to turn her head to know that he looked at her carefully. "I suppose not," he admitted finally. "No wings."

"If one were to travel to the Seelie Court, one might observe the Queen's handmaidens, some of which look like beautiful human girls except for their black, insectile eyes," Belle explained. "Perhaps I'm one of them."

"You have green eyes."

"Not naturally, I don't."

Jem sat up. "What do you mean, not naturally? What have you forgotten to tell me?"

She sighed and looked over at his lovely, bemused face. "When you have an exiled father living among mundanes, it helps to look like one of them. With the right spell…" She gestured at her eyes. "It's a permanent glamour."

"I didn't know they could do that."

"_They_ probably couldn't," she smirked. "But there are those who push the rules of magic farther than are necessary."

"It's odd that you go to great lengths to pretend you're not what you are. You fall in love with Shadowhunters, befriend them as well as vampires and warlocks, refuse to speak of your family, and hide the one identifying feature you have. What's so awful about being fey?"

Belle pulled herself to a position where she could rest on her elbows. "They don't want me," she said quietly. "I'm practically exiled, and even if I were not… Well, my blood makes me different, in a bad way, at least to them. They don't want me," she repeated, "so I will not be one of them."

"What are you, then, if not a faerie? Mundane, Shadowhunter, vampire, warlock?"

"I'm Belle," she whispered. "Isn't that enough?"

Jem sighed as though annoyed, but he smiled and kissed her. "It's more than enough. I love you for you, not for what you are. I mean, not because you're a faerie, but –"

"I understand," she laughed. "Come on, you're all _I_ want, so why should I be any less?"

"Cheeky little thing, aren't you?" he murmured, his eyes darkening from their usual ash silver to a more iron grey.

"Maybe I am," she said breathlessly, lying back down and inviting him over. He crawled over her gratefully, kissing her again and again, until they were led down the path of the day before, and neither wanted to stop it.


	24. Chapter 24

**You've been waiting and I have provided! I know you're expecting some grand ending here, but nope, just another chapter. I am terribly sorry it's been so long, my lovelies, but I've been going through some emotional problems lately, including a lot of self-doubt over my writing abilities. But without further ado, here ya go, if anyone's still reading.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, all credit to the beauteous Cassandra Clare (Clockwork Prince was awesome, wasn't it?)**

**Chapter: Belle**

"Will, where are you taking me?" Belle asked, annoyed. It was almost a full day since she had seen Will at dinner the night before, when Charlotte shyly announced to them all that she was pregnant. It had lifted everyone's mood, particularly Henry's– he hadn't known, apparently, and hadn't stopped grinning since he found out– and everyone else shared in the miracle that was new life. Everyone, of course, but Will, who only managed a brief _congratulations,_ otherwise sitting in stony silence– most unusual, they all agreed.

Now, the next day, he still wouldn't say a thing. He popped in to tell Belle she had to come with him, and that was that. He wouldn't explain why, or whether anyone else (particularly Jem) knew, or even where they were going. Belle knew they were going up and up and up, higher than she had ever been in the Institute, but beyond that… nothing.

"_Will,"_ she stressed, stopping dead and refusing to move, even as he tugged on her arm. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me where we're going!"

"By the _Angel_, you're obstinate," he swore, rounding on her. "Don't you trust me, dearest Belle?" The mockery in his voice was clear.

"No, actually, I don't trust you. Jem does, but you know what? You've not given me a reason to. For all I know you're going to kill me on the roof. Quite frankly I don't want to be here, my _sombres ange."_

"Dark angel, eh? No, I'm not going to kill you. You've done that on your own, haven't you? I couldn't take you out before your big show."

Belle was so surprised she let Will tug her up one more flight of stairs to, as she almost suspected, the roof. It was fairly warm, but the breeze slipped through her clothes and made her shiver. "Why are you being cruel?"

"Me? Why am _I_ being cruel?"

"Yeah, you! You drag me up here out of nowhere with no warning, I haven't even got a coat, and you're verbally abusing me! What did I do to you?"

He bore into her eyes with his own dark ones. "Well, you've just about ruined my life, but beyond that…"

"Ruined your… what the _hell_ are you on about?" she asked irritably.

"Do you understand what you've done?" he asked in a slow, dangerous voice. "Have you any idea what this is going to do to him? Yes, it's all very sad that Romeo and Juliet are being parted, but you've done him no favors."

"Saving his life isn't a favor?"

"Not to him it's not. He's _dealing_ with his illness, and maybe the rest of us aren't, but it's not up to us to decide how he lives or dies! It's not about _you_, it was never about _you_, I don't care if you want him to live, it's not your call!"

"Do you hear yourself?" she shouted. "Do you want him to die?"

"No!" he yelled back. "But that's not up to me! He asked me to stop looking for a cure, so I did! You think I was happy about that? No! I wasn't! But what he wants is the most important thing! What is he going to do after you die?"

Belle swallowed, not expecting Will to be so blunt about it. "He can live the life he wants. He's a brilliant Shadowhunter, so he can go on doing that. He can marry, have children, get to a respectable age and die with his friends and family around him. The way it should be."

"Move on, eh? Are you actually an idiot? He _loves_ you, all right? He _loves _you, _you_, okay? You don't just _move on_ from loving someone! He's going to be incredibly guilty over this, he's going to blame himself for you doing this, he's going to go over every conversation the two of you ever had and wonder if it was something he did or said that convinced you. He will _never_ forgive himself," Will finished in a growl. "And I can't believe you're going to do it anyway."

"I can't very well get out of it, can I?" She tangled her hands in her black curls. "Besides, you were grateful the other night, weren't you? You thanked me!"

"I hadn't thought it through, all I knew was that my best friend was going to live, and yes, I was selfish for a bit!"

She shook her head. "Magnus said–"

"Magnus," Will scoffed. "Did he tell you I offered to take your place?"

Belle looked up at him, confusion etched on her face. "The hell? Why would you do that? If you were so selfishly pleased that you would have more years with your best friend, why would you want to give that up?"

"You're bloody oblivious, aren't you? And Jem thinks you're clever. I'll have to enlighten him on the subject. The first tidbit of information I seized was not that _Jem would live_ but rather _you would die._ That's what came to mind when I offered to take your place." He turned away, scowling.

Belle scuffed her feet shakily, resting her hand on Will's shoulder. He shook it off, his frown deepening. "Will," she breathed. "What do you mean?"

"Does it need saying?" he muttered.

She hesitated, then shook her head. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I never wanted this, any of it."

"Maybe it would have been better if faeries stayed out of the affairs of Shadowhunters, in the future."

She sucked it a breath. "I can't believe you would say something like that. Did you really bring me up here to berate me for something that can't me changed?"

"I'm berating you for not considering the consequences of what you did. I know I can't change a damn thing, which is the most awful thing of all. And no, I actually brought you up here to celebrate your birthday, but the berating sounds more fun right now." He let a tiny smile come onto his face, but rather than being reassured, Belle was slightly frightened.

"It's not my birthday."

"Yes, but your birthday falls on an unfortunate date, don't you think?"

Belle counted the days in her head and conceded. "This is certainly one fun party, then. You're miserable, I'm miserable, there's only the two of us, it's freezing up here, and it's almost dark." She pointed to the London skyline, which was rapidly fading from grey to palest pink.

Will snapped to attention immediately, swearing under his breath. "I didn't mean for this to last so long. Follow me."

"Excuse me? No."

He looked her dead in the eye. "Follow me," he repeated, and something in his voice reminded Belle that she was talking to a highly dangerous killer. She went after him as he skirted the edge of the roof, following a maze-like series of turns– who knew there were so many things to keep the roof from being flat?– until they reached Will's destination.

It was a garden. She didn't know if he had planted it, or if it had been there for a while, but everywhere there were plants in jars, pots, and various other odd containers. Some she recognized, like huge pink day lilies and tiny daffodils, but others, like a spiky blue thing with petals like peacock feathers, she didn't know the name of. Perhaps they were grown only in Idris?

"Oh, Will," she breathed. "How did… How did you know?"

"Jem," he said gruffly, as though embarrassed. "Both of us missed green things when we came to London, so we climbed to the roof one day a few years ago to survey the city and found this place. He told me you hated it here."

"I don't _hate_ it," she corrected, examining a tiny blue blossom with what looked like gold runes etched on it. "All right, maybe I hate it. I don't hate _being_ here, I quite enjoy your company, I just hate London."

"You enjoy my company, do you?"

"I meant the collective 'you,'" she said, rolling her eyes. "Jem and Charlotte and the like."

"So you _don't_ enjoy my company, is that it?"

"You're impossible. I don't mind you most of the time, and there are moments when I think you're actually, I dunno, _human,_ but then you go shouting at me and I don't know…"

Will shrugged, the line of his jaw hard and tight. "You shouldn't like me, anyway, though better me than him."

Belle swallowed. "Are you telling me how selfish you are?"

He blinked in surprise. "No, I think that goes without saying. You're not good enough for him, that's what I mean. Not nearly good enough. But that's not a big deal. I'm not good enough for him, either. No one is. Jem, you see, is perfect, or near enough to it, whereas my depravity knows no bounds and _you…"_

"What about me?" she demanded, offended. "I may not be perfect, but I love him. Isn't that enough?"

"Not enough to respect his wishes, apparently," Will remarked off handedly, as though commenting on the weather. He rested his arms on the metal railing encircling the roof and looked out at the skyline. "He can do so much better than a Downworlder who acts like a mundane but gallivants with Shadowhunters, a girl with as many morals as myself, a girl–"

"That his best friend loves?" she finished bitterly.

He spun around and fixed his gaze on her, sharp and sudden. His eyes frightened her more than anything else, hard and blazing and furious. "Never," he warned, "say that again, or there _will_ be consequences."

"What can you do to me that won't be worse in a week? You need me, you said it yourself. You need me to die for him, because no matter what, you need him and love him more than anyone else, even yourself. He's always going to be first. It's not about _me_, you said that too. It's about Jem." Her voice was soft, understanding, as she sunk to the ground and buried her nose in an enormous red rose. "Well, I will disobey his wishes if it means saving his life."

"Admirable, if idiotic," Will sighed, visibly relaxing.

Belle cocked her head. "You _are_ an interesting one, aren't you? Just a million ups and downs, more mood swings than most teenage girls, and somehow you've developed feelings for me. Why?"

"You're witty. You're brave, and your heart's in the right place." He cast his eyes away from her. "Jem sees merit in you where others might not, which he does for me as well. I suppose you remind me of myself."

"Most decidedly not a compliment, I'm guessing." She was silent for a moment. "If you _do_ care, why are you so often cruel? Why are you always cross with me?"

"You're infuriating as well as lovely, I'm sure someone's told you that. Besides, being cruel is easier than being nice."

She nodded and opened her mouth to say something before Will interrupted. "Look up!"

She did, surprised and confused, but only saw the sky. "What am I looking at? There's nothing there."

"The sunset, isn't that something?" It _was_ something. With the absence of London's usual clouds, the sky exploded a thousand shades of pink, orange, yellow, and even some purple. It was like someone had thrown a million colors of paint onto a blank canvas, and the effect, while overwhelming, was incredibly beautiful. "C'mere, this is the best way to see it all."

Will collapsed in a sprawl, lying on his back to look up at the sky. Belle mirrored him and agreed that it was the best way to get a full view of the thing. Still, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get it all in at once. "When I need to think, I come up here," he mumbled, and she could see why. It was lovely and tragic, the view you might not ever see again, something so perfect that couldn't possibly last. She could see how that would appeal to poetic Will.

They watched in silence as the horizon began to dim until the whole sky was a deep cobalt. The same rich blue, in fact, as…

She turned her head to tell Will that the sky was the exact shade of the night sky in Hell, of his eyes, but he turned at the same moment and somehow their lips were pressed together. At first they were frozen in surprise, but he recovered quickly, closed his eyes and cupped the back of her neck. She parted her lips and kissed back, drunk with the aftermath of the sunset in her mind and the scent of foreign flowers heavy in the air.

After a few minutes, something changed and they pulled apart. Belle was breathing hard, guilt starting to seep into her veins, slowly at first because she wasn't quite processing what had just happened.

Will, meanwhile, had his eyes still closed and a lazy smile on his lips, which were swollen and pink. "You know, when Gideon Lightwood called you a whore, he might have been right," he murmured, so quietly he mightn't have said it at all. As it was…

"You son of a bitch," Belle spat, hating herself as much as she hated him. She jumped up and ran, winding through the labyrinthine roof until she found the door to bring her back downstairs. When she reached the attic, she found Jessamine, looking bored as usual.

"Oh, good," she intoned. "If you've finished mooning about with Will on the roof, you might tell him to come down. Charlotte's been simply frantic looking for him since Jem fell ill. She sent _me_ of all people up here to tell him, but now you're here and I needn't go up at all."

The only two words that registered with the dark-haired girl were _Jem_ and _ill_. "Jem's ill? Is he all right?"

The blonde waved her hand in annoyance. "I don't know, nor do I particularly care. Just tell Will, won't you?"

"Tell him yourself," she called, racing down what seemed like endless flights of stairs, heart pounding. _One more week, _she prayed. _One more week, Jem. Just hold on._

**Chapter: Will**

"Will! Will Herondale!" Will's eyes snapped open. He recognized the voice immediately, he couldn't help it, but why would _they_ of all people…?

"Jessie?" he called back experimentally.

"William, I don't have time for this! It's cold and I'm not inclined to stand on the roof for hours on end! Just get back here." There was an odd urgency in her voice that spurred Will to motion, because Jessie was never urgent about anything. He flew soundlessly to her side in seconds, weaving around oddly shaped things that seemed to have no purpose but to be in his way.

"Jessie, what's the matter?"

She picked at her fingernail. "It's Jem, Charlotte says go to him or some such nonsense."

Will stared at her for a long second, her brown eyes fixed uninterestedly on his cobalt ones, before bolting downstairs. He jumped down several flights of stairs, wincing a bit as his feet tried to absorb the shock of landing. He made it to Jem's room in record time, but Belle was already there, sitting at his bedside.

"Get out of the way," he snapped, leaning over to check Jem's breathing, if he was coughing, his pulse, the paleness of his skin, a thousand little things no one else could do for him. When satisfied he was alive, at least for now, he turned to Belle. "Now get out."

"Get _out_? No!"

"There is nothing more you can do for him, so _get out_."

She rose, fury on every line of her face, and leaned toward Will so she could whisper, trying not to wake Jem. "I can't believe you dare to order me around after what you did on the roof," she hissed, emerald eyes narrowed. She turned to leave, but Will grabbed her arm and pulled her close again, a vicious grin on his face.

"You chide me for my actions, but remember this: _you_ are a ring away from being his betrothed, whereas _I_ am well-known to be amoral and impulsive."

"And _I_ was under the spell of beautiful things and kindness, whereas _you_ are supposed to love him more than anything." She stormed out, leaving Will feeling drained. There she was, being infuriating again.

Jem's eyes opened slowly. "W-Will?" he stammered in a soft, hoarse voice. Immediately Will threw himself into the chair by his bed and leaned in. "I'm here, James. I'm here."

"She told me what you did," he mumbled, his eyelids slipping down as though he fought to stay awake.

His blood ran cold. "James, I swear, I didn't– It was an accident–"

"I very much doubt that."

"Bloody hell, I always screw things up, don't I? I wish I had been here, I never wanted you to be ill without me here to help you…"

"Sometimes I think you need me to be ill. You need to be needed. Besides, you were quite occupied, I believe, if Belle was telling the truth." There was a catch in his voice.

"She probably was. Oh, Angel, what have I done?"

"Don't worry. I'm sure you made her feel better. I just wish you had told me beforehand, I would have…"

Will's heart ached, physically ached. He had done something awful and Jem was forgiving him. He should have been relieved, but he just felt worse. "This wasn't supposed to happen, it wasn't supposed to be like this, I never wanted it to be like this… I never thought…"

"I declare, you are just too dramatic. I'm sure it was lovely, before I interrupted like this."

"Interrupted? James…"

"Was I right?"

He sighed. "It was a fine kiss, just short, and I never…" He trailed off as Jem's eyes snapped completely open, wide in shock and horror.

"What kiss?"

**Please review.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Yes, yes, it's been a while. But here we go, next chapter! There should only be about three more, by the way.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Chapter: Will**

Will looked at Jem for a moment before casting his eyes away, swearing vehemently in several languages. "James," he implored when he had finished, "Jem, I didn't mean to–"

"All I heard was that you wanted to celebrate her birthday. She didn't tell me about any kiss. Why would you– you know that I– that we–" His voice was choked with disbelief and distress.

"Jem," Will said again, the sound of the name dragging him back to reality. "I didn't mean– it was an accident, I swear it. I turned my head and she was there, and I lost myself for a minute…"

"William. I have seen you at your very worst. I have seen you stagger in at some ungodly hour of the morning, covered in blood but grinning, drugged up on victory. I have seen you barely able to stand, coming home after a few days, smelling of liquor and unshaven. I have _walked in on you_ meeting with some nameless girl from the wrong part of London. I have seen you do terrible things, or just immoral things, but _never_ did I think your degenerate state would directly affect me. I thought you cared enough about me to…" He looked down. Long silver lashes hid his eyes.

"You know I care about you, Jem… We're _parabatai_…"

"Will, _parabatai_ means more than having my back in battle! It means we're brothers, and no brother short of Cain would do this to another."

Will's heart skipped a few painful beats. He shuddered, wondering if he was going to cry. It's true, it took a lot to pull tears from his eyes, but he hadn't seen Jem like this before. To compare them to Cain and Abel, to the man who had slain his brother out of jealousy… "I never…"

"You never _think_, that's the problem! You just go right ahead and do what you like without considering the consequences. You don't think about who you'll hurt. No one else expects that courtesy, but I at least thought you were slightly more human regarding me."

_Now I'm not even human? Degenerate, murderous, not human?_ He should have been angry, and he would have been if it was anyone else, but coming from Jem, _Jem_, sweet, amiable Jem… He was hurting even more than he had all those times he had to clean the blood from Jem's face, all those times he heard the anguished coughing, all those times he lied to Charlotte about how Jem was feeling, all those times he thought he was going to lose the only person who could never hate him…

Not that the title applied to Jem anymore. Clearly Will had wounded him deeper than anyone else ever had, deeper than the death of his parents, deeper than impending death, deeper than the drug…

"I never thought you would hate me," Will whispered.

"You can't do things like this and expect it to be all right! I love her, Will. I try not to ask for much because you do so much for me anyway, when I'm ill, but this was the one thing I hoped you would grant me: the chance to fall in love with someone before I die. I thought I'd had it, and now… I haven't got another chance, you know. This was it, I'm not going to live long enough to–"

"Don't talk like that, Jem."

"Like what? How long do you think I have, Will?"

"A few years, at the least–"

"I haven't got six months." His voice was gentle when he said that, but got hard again as though he remembered the issue at hand. "So that's that."

"It was just a kiss," Will breathed, trying to convince himself more than anything. "Just a kiss."

"I _know_ that. It's not… not what you did with her, it's the thought behind it. You were trying to make her happy, which I have no issue with, but then you looked at her and decided you were going to kiss her, even knowing how I feel."

"I told you it was an accident, I didn't plan it–"

"But you were only too pleased to continue, weren't you?"

"She kissed back," Will managed through a blocked throat. "Yes, I initiated it– accidentally– but she kissed back." He hated himself for throwing Belle under the bus, as it were, but he knew that what she said earlier was true; it wasn't about her, or Will. It was about Jem, and Will couldn't bear having Jem cross with him.

Jem pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, bowing over like a branch weighed down by snow. "Just let me talk to her. Please, I need to– to ask her."

"You don't believe me," Will said incredulously, standing up. "You don't believe me."

"I didn't say that. I just need to talk to Belle. Please, Will. I'm not too tired, I just have to see her." There was the faintest trace of a sob in his words, which broke Will's heart.

"I'll be back with her, I promise. Hold on, James. Wait for me." He wasn't sure why he was asking him to hold on, wasn't sure what he thought Jem would do all alone, but he felt it had to be said.

He hurried out of the room and rushed to Belle's room– empty. He ran downstairs and almost knocked over tiny Charlotte, just walking into the kitchen. "Is Jem–" she started to ask, but Will interrupted.

"He's fine, well, as fine as to be expected, but have you seen Belle?"

"She just left, actually. Mumbled something about meeting the Daylighter, I can't remember his name for the life of me. Did you need her?"

"Any idea when she'll be back?" he asked, ignoring her question because he couldn't bear to answer.

"None, but she was dressed like she would be out for a while. I don't know where she went, either, before you ask."

Will briefly considered going out to find her, but realized he couldn't. She could be anywhere, probably in some Downworlder haunt he wouldn't be permitted to enter, and he couldn't leave Jem for that long anyway. He stumbled upstairs dejectedly, wondering what he was going to tell Jem.

**Chapter: Belle**

"So I just had to get out of there and come talk to you," Belle finished. Riley had been strangely silent throughout her tale, and it occurred to her that he wouldn't want to hear about her kissing other boys. She forgot he had some feelings for her, same as Will did. Same as Jem.

Riley's face was stony, impassive, something Belle wasn't used to. She was used to his very expressive, animated face that always brightened when he saw her. _Maybe I should have gone to Magnus or Gabriel… No, Magnus wouldn't understand and Gabriel hates Will. They wouldn't get it._

"Riley? Are you okay?" she asked tentatively.

"I guess I don't understand," he said after a bit more silence, "why you thought the best thing to do was leave."

She blinked in surprise. "Well, I certainly don't want to see Will, not for a while, not until he can apologize."

"From what I can tell, you didn't give him a chance to."

"He wasn't going to apologize, trust me. He called me a whore!"

"Frankly, he had every right to. You called _him_ all sorts of names already, and you kissed him despite claiming to be in love with your Jem. Then you rush out to see me, you've already admitted to being involved with all the Lightwoods, and Magnus was the first one you ran to when Jem was ill."

"Magnus is a warlock, he was the only one who might be _able_ to help Jem, the Lightwoods were ancient history by the time I met Jem, and I already told you I feel awful about Will!" she explained hurriedly, the wind scraping color into her cheeks and hiding her flush of embarrassment. "Don't berate me about this."

"You came to me for advice, I'm giving it."

"No, you're harassing me!"

"Belle!" he shouted, shocking her into silence. Riley had never raised his voice to her before, even when he probably should have. "You need to get in touch with reality, okay? You can't keep running!"

"I don't–"

"Yes, you do! It's in your blood, I suppose: your father ran from London when your mother died, and from America when something went wrong. You ran from Paris when _he_ died, you ran to Magnus when Jem was ill despite the fact that you probably should have checked on him first, you run from Will whenever he upsets you, and now you're running again. You can't _do_ this, just run away whenever something goes wrong!"

Belle reeled back as though she had been slapped. It had never felt like running away, it had always felt like running _toward_ something. "I never meant to run away," she whispered.

"Don't give me that, you knew exactly what you were doing. If you feel so terrible about kissing Will, why aren't you in there apologizing?"

"It's his fault–"

"I didn't mean Will, I meant Jem. Don't you think he'll want to hear this from you?"

"He doesn't need to know."

"Yeah, because that's the way to go about things. Oh, no need to tell the man I love that I kissed his best friend, _he probably won't ever find out._ He'll at the very least know something's wrong, and suppose he finds out? You said Jessamine knew something was going on up there, suppose she tells him? What if Will lets it slip?"

"He won't," she said, but suddenly wasn't sure. Could he? He would have known she didn't say anything, right? _Right?_

"I can tell you don't know. Imagine Jem finding out you kissed Will, and maybe he wants to ask you about it, but you're not here. Why? You ran out when he was sick, for no reason but to get out of there. Do you understand how this _looks_?" He sighed and put a hand to his forehead. "Your relationship has caused more problems than it's solved."

"Oh my God, what did I do?" she asked in realization, eyes wide and skin pale where it wasn't painted red from the wind.

"You've screwed up royally, and this time it's no one's fault but your own. You said it yourself, Will's amoral. As far as I'm concerned, Jem will be more upset by your betrayal than by Will's. Look at it from his point of view: the devilishly handsome libertine who always gets the girl and comes home drunk every other night, having a rendezvous on the roof with the girl who says she loves him, all while he's half-dead in his room below."

"He must hate me," Belle cried out, then clapped her hand to her mouth. She hated getting too upset in front of people, even Riley. Even when the situation was as potentially grave as this.

"He'd have every right to," he rumbled, sitting back and closing his eyes, folding his arms over his chest as though trying to fall asleep.

"There's just one more thing, then," she said, steeling herself to prevent the tears pricking her eyes from falling.

"Hm?"

"Why are you being so– so sharp with me? You're awfully bitter."

He sighed and sat up. His dark eyes met Belle's green ones. "I spoke to Magnus this morning because I haven't seen you in a bit and I was wondering how you are. You'll never _guess_ what he told me." His voice was rough, with a hint of the drawling tone Will used that so annoyed Belle.

"Oh, no," she breathed. "Oh, no, no, no, I told him not to tell anyone, he already told Will and now you…"

"I for one am glad he told me. What am I supposed to do without you?"

"Same as you did before me, I guess. I don't know. Meet people, find a nice girl who loves you, someone who won't go off and– and leave you…" She started to cry, not outright sobbing, just a few tears running down her cheeks as her breath shuddered. She wiped the tears away impatiently but saw Riley's eyes gleaming as well.

"Vampires aren't supposed to cry," she whispered.

"Faeries aren't supposed to die," he murmured back. "How long until– until it happens?"

"About a week. Oh, how can I last that long?"

"You want it to happen _sooner_?"

"No, but– but I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to see you sad, I don't want Will to be miserable, I don't want Jem to hurt anymore…"

He took a careful breath. "If you want me there when you… Well, I'll come if you want to."

She shook her head and curled up next to him on their shared park bench, patting his hand. "You can come to my funeral," she promised gently, and more than anything else, that was the saddest thing Riley had ever heard.

**Chapter: Jem**

Jem was in that halfway point between sleeping and waking when he saw someone strangely familiar. He knew her but he didn't… It was Belle, wasn't it? But she was _wrong_, she was too tall, too thin– she wasn't really so skeletal, was she?– her skin was too pale, her eyes were all black, without iris or pupil– but her eyes were green, weren't they? The color of spring grass– and she had _wings_, blue-green and silver, arcing out behind her, looking gauzy and delicate. That couldn't be right.

"James," she whispered. Yes, that was her voice, high and sweet. "James, please, if you're awake, say something. Please don't ignore me."

"I'm not," he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "I'm awake." He looked over and realized he had been half right; Belle was there, but suddenly much more normal looking. No wings, the proper height, brilliant emerald eyes… The only things that worried him were the color of her skin, whiter than usual, and the gauntness in her cheeks. Not skeletally thin, perhaps, but how long had it been since she had a proper meal?

"James…" Her voice was tight, was something wrong? Then it hit him: _something was very wrong._ Was she here to make amends? Explain? Make sure he was all right?

"My name is Jem," he corrected her softly. It was clear some terrible turmoil was pulling her apart.

"Jem," she said instead. "I am so, so sorry. There was– I had no right to do what I did."

"What you did?"

"I should probably explain first. Will–"

"Will already explained," he informed her. Her skin blanched further. "He was here earlier, but I… I'm afraid I was a bit harsh on him. I know it was an accident," he lied. In truth he did know it was an accident, but he had hardly forgiven either of them. He just hadn't the heart to say that, not when the poor girl already looked like she had been traumatized.

"Don't you lie to me, Jem Carstairs, you're still angry," she noted sadly. "And you have every right to be, but I want to tell you, please don't blame Will. It truly was an accident, it was not his fault. It might not have been mine either, but as I'm sure he told you, I kissed back. That is absolutely my fault, but I wasn't thinking– about _anything_– and I knew how he feels about me, so–"

"How– how does he feel about you?" He had suspected, of course, that Will was harboring feelings towards Belle (_his_ Belle), but he didn't know she knew, too.

She glanced at her hands, twisting in her lap. "You know. He cares about me. I couldn't– I thought it kinder to just kiss him back, just once, then to deny him this just the week before–"

"Before what?"

"It doesn't matter," she brushed off, sounding horrified she had let something slip. It was clearly very personal, and he hadn't the inclination to pry. "But he _is_ kind, somewhere deep down, so please don't be angry with him. We can't always control how we feel about others." She managed a watery smile, so he shot a tentative one back. Seeing him smile seemed to brighten her up considerably, which was relieving. No matter what, Jem hated to see Belle upset.

"It's all right," he said, and this time he meant it. He didn't have much of a temper, and he didn't like holding grudges. Just seeing how obviously heartbroken both of them were made him crumble. "As long as you don't…"

"Do it again? I wouldn't dream of it. Cross my heart." She relaxed visibly, though something in her eyes still made him hesitate. Was she all right?

"Are you all right, Belle?"

"Yes. Fine. Of course." Her clipped words were too obviously the hallmarks of a lie. She was almost certainly not all right, but she couldn't tell him. Why? Didn't she trust him? Perhaps she didn't want to worry him while he was ill. Kind of her, but somehow that didn't seem right. Maybe it was only he she wouldn't tell. Was she…?

"Are you pregnant?" he blurted out. She jumped in surprise, eyes wide.

"No! God, no! Why? Do I look like I am? Am I gaining weight?" She pressed her hands to her stomach and looked at it.

"No! You're already too thin, Belle. You need to eat more. No, it was just a– just a guess. I'm not very good at this deduction game." He gave her a wry smile before beckoning her closer. "C'mere."

She hesitated. "Are you sure you're…"

"Healthy enough? Yes, I'm fine. I just want to hold you." She crawled into his arms and buried her face in the crook of his neck. He inhaled her familiar scent of orange blossoms and sighed contentedly.

"Our children would have been beautiful, Jem," she murmured tiredly. It was late at night, but she had been out recently; he could smell the city on her. She had dark bruises under her eyes; how long had it been since she had slept?

"Of course they would have been," he said in a low, soothing voice, sliding down to curl up on his side, wrapped around Belle. It was sad to think they'd never share that, be able to have children together.

"You still have time. Your children could still be beautiful."

"Maybe," he said to humor her, to soothe himself as well as her, and he was so wrapped up in that thought he didn't notice that the last time, she didn't say _'our_ children'.


	26. Chapter 26

**Brace yourselves.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Chapter: Belle**

One week consists of seven days, one hundred sixty-eight hours, ten thousand and eighty minutes, or six hundred and four thousand eight hundred seconds. If you live a particularly boring life it can seem to last an eternity.

For Belle it went by in a heartbeat.

She didn't understand _why_ time went so quick; it shouldn't have, by any reasoning. Time flies when you're having fun, maybe, but she wasn't having fun. She was in Hell, every minute of every day. She dreaded every waking second but nights were no better, and she woke every few hours with horrific nightmares that were filled with blood and pain and shadows that grinned at her from every angle.

She soon stopped sleeping altogether, and eating as well. Every swallow hurt, and she worried herself ill. Anyone who hadn't seen her every day would be astounded at the change: where there was once a healthy, beautiful girl, so full of life and energy and love (_Hey there, angel girl_), there remained only the shell of a broken soul, losing weight she couldn't afford to lose until Jem could count her ribs, dark bruises under her eyes, an angel no more (_I'm half-demon, you know_).

She didn't sleep (or not sleep, as the case was) in her own bed anymore, but rather insisted on being at Jem's side constantly. He didn't mind, in fact he adored her presence, but her sudden change in attitude and manner alarmed and confused him. Why was she ill? Was she feeling all right? Had he done something? Was she _sure_ she wasn't–

"James!" she shouted at him after the fourth time he asked the question. It had been a week since she'd last used that name, a week since she'd begged his forgiveness. A week since she'd kissed Will. "If I was _pregnant_ I would _tell_ you! I'm not, and I'm not ill, I'm just…" She sighed, burying her face in her hands. "I'm just tired."

"I'll say. You never sleep anymore." He sat on his bed (_their_ bed) beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and rubbing her arm. "You think I don't notice but I do, and I don't want you to be unhappy. Please," he begged. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm just going to miss you," she whispered.

"By the Angel, Belle, don't say that. I know… Well, people always miss the ones they love, but you'll be all right, you know you will, and I won't be…"

"Do you believe in Heaven?" She didn't know. She knew many Shadowhunters differed in their religious beliefs, if they had any at all. "I mean, there are demons and angels, so it stands to reason…"

Jem was quiet for a moment. "I believe… Have you heard of the Wheel of Life?" Belle shook her head. "It's the idea that when you die, you reincarnate, as it were, into someone else. I believe that when you love someone, you and they are bound, and in every life you will find each other." He smiled so sweetly it was impossible not to smile back. "What about you? Do you believe in God?"

Belle's first instinct was to deny the existence of any such deity, because a benevolent God would never deal the hand she played with every day. There was the possibility of a malevolent God, which would explain a lot, but it would seem rather silly to waste time praying to a God that wants to squish you like a bug. "I've seen a lot in my time. Three different countries in eighteen years. Mundane, Downworlder, Shadowhunter. I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demigods and would-be gods. I've had the whole pantheon. But if I believe in one thing, just one thing… Well, I believe in _you_."

"In… me? Why do you believe in me? What's all that about… fake gods and… the rest?" The confusion emanating from him was palpable. Over the few weeks they'd known each other, Jem had opened up to Belle, letting himself feel the wide spectrum of human emotion he previously kept hidden. He had to be the rock for Will, calm and steady, but with Belle he was free.

She shrugged, eyelids fluttering. Exhaustion made her say strange things, though she'd let Jem think she was deep if he liked. "Just that there are a lot of people out there who think they're gods, who have power and abuse it: bad gods. Fake gods, because they're people who think they rule the world when they couldn't govern a street corner. Demigods… That's what I am, isn't it, half-angel and half-something else. I believe in you, Jem Carstairs, because you are the most beautiful person I have ever met."

He flushed; he couldn't hope to hide a blush with such pale porcelain skin. He ducked his head forward and let silver hair fall over his eyes. _It's getting long_, she thought affectionately. _He'll need a haircut. Maybe tomorrow_– Her heart stopped. There would be no tomorrow for her. "I'm not," he murmured. "I'm too thin and too pale and too delicate."

"First of all, shut up, and second of all, that doesn't matter. You've got a light inside that can't help but shine through, and you're kind and smart and loving and you put up with Will and I and oh, Jem, I must have done something really wonderful to end up with someone like you," she sobbed, burying her face in Jem's shoulder and winding her arms around his neck. She took shuddering breaths but the tears wouldn't come.

"Yeah, you're _you_," he replied softly, stroking her hair. "I love you so much. Lovely, lovely faerie girl. It's not as though I'm dying tonight. You don't need to say goodbye."

_If you had any idea…_ she thought sadly. But then again, if he had any idea he'd do anything to stop her. He'd kill himself if it meant he wouldn't have to watch her die. "I don't want to live without you."

"You've lived without me for years, you can do it for more…"

"It's not the same, Jem, I know you now… And I love you, I didn't love you before, there is no way I'm going to live without you. I promise you it will not happen."

"You'd be surprised what you can do when you have to," Jem whispered, burying his face in Belle's curly hair, still dark as coffee roast but limp now. "People can do much more than they think they can, under pressure."

Belle held him, nuzzling her nose into the curve of his throat. "You're going to live, Jem," she promised. "You are."

"Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty," he answered, "and I'd like to think I can be one of those people, though I won't hit twenty, I'd bet."

"Don't say that. Just… trust me, all right?"

Jem pulled away. "Do you know something I don't? Are you hiding something from me?"

She met his curious mercury-bright eyes with trepidation; she worried he would know she's lying. "Nothing," she said in a trembling voice. "Nothing you won't forgive me for."

"You're a funny little thing, aren't you? Like a little bird, quick and darting. I–" He yawned. "Goodness, I'm exhausted. Stay with me?"

"Always," she murmured, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. "Do you want me to– to sing?"

He buried himself into his sheets, nestling in like a cat. "Yes, but come here. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms." She obeyed, crawling in after him and snuggling against his chest. His hands pushed her shirt up to her chest– well, really it was _his_ shirt, loose and forest-green– and his fingers played the violin strings of her ribs. "You're too thin, much too thin. Promise me you'll eat a good breakfast tomorrow."

She didn't say anything, just let a few tears fall down her cheeks. "_A la claire fontaine,"_ she sang softly, "_m'en allant promener. Il ya longtemps que je t'aime. Jamais je ne l'oublirai…"_ The soft shuffling sound of Jem's breathing told her he had fallen asleep. She let herself stay in his arms for a few minutes longer, but eventually forced herself out of bed and stood by his sleeping form.

Belle wanted to say so many things to Jem, even while asleep, but in the end all she did was kiss his temple and whisper, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She slipped out of the room and down the stairs, out the front door and down the street until she met Magnus at their prearranged location.

He was all in black, such a sharp contrast to his caramel-colored skin, and even his hair was a silky dark curtain down to his shoulders. Without his usual sparkle and color, he looked drawn and watered down. For a moment they just stared at each other, the pale and ill faerie in her lover's clothes and the warlock who was already mourning. "Don't bury me in black or white," Belle blurted out by way of greeting. "Black is traditional for us and white is for Shadowhunters but I don't want that. Bury me in color."

"If I had it my way, I wouldn't be burying you at all," he said in a low voice. Death he was accustomed to, at his age, but the death of a friend was always a sad occasion, and immortals weren't supposed to die at all. "Where's the vampire?"

"Riley? I told him not to come. I want to be alone."

Magnus nodded knowingly; there were some things one must go through without help. "Shall we get on with it, then?"

She hesitated before nodding curtly. Once. "Get on with it."

He got to work, chanting and doing whatever it is warlocks do to summon a demon. Within moments, the shadows on the brick wall before them collected into a face. Belle's thoughts were drawn to dark times in history for reasons she didn't understand: the fall of Troy and the fires of Pompeii, the mundane World Wars, oppression through imperialism, the deaths of millions, billions, the French revolution and the subsequent Great Terror…

_Welcome, welcome, children of Faerie and Lilith,_ a voice rumbled, sharp and metallic like a knife scarping across stone. _You return for the life of the Shadowhunter. Liberating to have another's life in your hands, is it not? Power is the greatest motivator. _

"Oh, shut up," Belle grumbled. Magnus looked at her in disbelief; did she really want to risk the wrath of the oldest and greatest demon when she needed him so desperately? She caught his eye and rolled her own. "I'm already gone, Magnus. I'm a dead man walking. What can he do to me?"

_What indeed,_ Nyx mused. _I admire your bravery. I don't mind a little insubordination providing you remember exactly who holds the upper hand here. Keep your mouth in check and we'll have no problem. Now, for the deal…_

Belle gritted her teeth. "Okay, go ahead. Just make it quick."

_So eager. No, no, it won't be so easy. Look at your feet._ She looked: there were two small glass vials, one with what looked like black flames inside, the other with a diamond-bright liquid. _The dark one is yours to take. The light is for your angel._ The mockery in its voice was clear.

"And I just have to drink it?" She picked up the bottles and examined the contents. "I'll just… die?"

_I told you it wouldn't be so easy. Drink it and begin your three days of agony. The same will go for him. When the days are over, the exchange will be complete. A life for a life._

A look of fear crossed Belle's face. She hated pain; how could she hold on for three days? _No_, she told herself forcefully. _You can do it for Jem. For Jem. Jem…_ "I'll do it," she blurted out. She really couldn't keep her mouth shut today.

_It's so funny to think you still have a choice. You made your promises, faerie. You were dead from the moment you sought me out. _

She turned the vial containing her poison over and over in her hands. "I don't suppose," she said slowly, "there's any way I'd survive three days of agony. If this were a movie my strength and determination would be enough to save me. Love would get me through."

_Life is cruel. You of all people should know that. Not every faerie tale has a happy ending. Ha, faerie tale– clever. Did you see what I did there? Yes, I suppose there is the faintest of all possibilities you won't die. Hope is strong. Good luck. _There was an icy chill breeze, and then nothing. Magnus stopped chanting, and Belle let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Imagine. She could live. It was a small chance, that was true, but what was life really but a series of unlikely coincidences? She could live. Jem could live. They could be together for years and years. Maybe there would be time for children… Jem's children would be so beautiful… She could be the one at his side when he died in fifty, sixty years…

"Don't," Magnus warned, guessing her thoughts. "Nyx said that just to screw with you. You _know_ it's not worth hoping for. You'll just break your own heart."

"If I'm wrong, I won't have a beating heart to break," she argued softly. She sighed. "Can we go? I don't want to be here anymore."

He nodded and pulled her into his arms. He smelled of smoke and the city. "I wish you weren't so noble. I wish you wouldn't take responsibility for his life. I wish you could just be selfish like everyone else."

"I've spent enough time being selfish," she replied, gently pushing him away. She couldn't deal with any affection right now. "I'm giving _him_ a chance to live a long, selfish life. If I didn't do this I would never forgive myself."

"I wish you weren't so… well, _okay_ with this."

"Look at me, Magnus," Belle ordered as she started quickly walking toward his house. They weren't far. "Do I look happy?"

He had to admit she didn't. She was skeletal and gaunt, paler than usual but with dark shadows in her cheeks and under her eyes. Her hands twitched nervously and he could see her pulse pounding at the base of her throat. She was already a ghost. He followed her in silence, even as she leapt up his stairs and fell into his bedroom. She sat in the middle of the bed and looked at both vials. Finally she held the black one close to her chest and held the light one out to Magnus. Her eyes were dull and dark instead of the bright emerald they should have been.

"Take it to him," she begged. "Give it to Will. He can give it to Jem. I can't go back there. Just leave me here." Magnus took the proffered vial and left quickly; he could stand to see her do this to herself. When he was absolutely gone, she pulled the stopper and took a long draught. It tasted awful, but she swallowed it all and dropped the empty bottle beside her.

She was all right for a minute, but suddenly pain shot down her spine. She cried out and fell back, arching her spine as fire flooded her veins. It felt as though every bit of skin was being slowly torn from her body and burned. As much as she despised being weak, she burst into tears and started sobbing before mercifully blacking out.

**Chapter: Will**

Three days. Three long, painful days where Will sat at Jem's bedside, not eating, not sleeping, just waiting and watching with bated breath. He knew his _parabatai_ was hurting, of course he was, he had been unconscious for days but still cried out in restless sleep, tossing and turning and oh, God, it's been three days, why isn't he well yet?

Jem was the only person Will needed. He loved, though he would hardly admit it, and he wanted, much more than anyone guessed, but he didn't _need_. Except Jem. William Herondale and James Carstairs, the dream team, the dynamic duo, two halves to the same whole. Jem needed Will quite a bit, though he never admitted it– he hated needing anyone, because he hated to be a burden, though no one considered him one– and Will needed Jem, which he would freely admit if he could ever find the words.

He took Jem's hand then, pale and cool, with both his own. He was hoping the warmth of another person would bring him around and he started imploring every deity he could name for help. "Angel, please, don't die on me, Jem," he murmured. Jem couldn't die, not when he had been given his last chance at life.

Will put his thumb over the vein in Jem's wrist. He felt the fluttering pulse, light and soft as a butterfly's wings beating. "James, please," he begged. Jem _had_ to be strong enough to get through this. He couldn't lose him. He couldn't lose him. He couldn't–

Just then, as the sun rose on the third day, Jem's eyes started to open.

And at that same moment, across the city in a townhouse by the Thames, a warlock started to cry.

**Epilogue up next.**


	27. Epilogue

Well, here we go. This is the end. I want to thank everyone who reviewed, or favorited, or added this to alert. I appreciate all of you. This was the first story I ever started for fanfiction, and now... Well, I'm sorry it's over, but I think it became a lot more than I ever expected. So here we go. Enjoy.

**Chapter: Epilogue**

A man trudged up the steps to the London Institute with a heavy heart. He was in his late twenties, tall and slender, with light olive skin and silky dark hair. The curve of his eyes, black and shiny as an ebony piano, revealed his ancestry as not entire English. What truly set him apart in the crowd, however, was twofold: the loose-fitting clothes he wore in a perfectly crisp shade of white, and the swirling black tattoos that covered his skin. He knocked curtly on the heavy wood doors. Knock. Knock. Knock. As a Shadowhunter he was of course granted automatic entrance, but it was common courtesy. This was no longer his home.

The doors opened and a beautiful woman, all shining gold hair and belly swollen with pregnancy, smiled out at him. "James," she said warmly in a throaty French accent. "Will is expecting you." She stepped to the side and Jem walked in.

"It's good to see you, Maddie," he said quietly, though honesty. "How are the children? All… how many do you have now?"

She let out a silvery laugh and folded her hands over her stomach. "This will be my sixth. James, Juliet, Alistair, Thomas, Emma, and this one." She winced and her hands clenched tightly around each other as her skin whitened to an alarming degree. "If you will excuse me, I ought to return to bed. I was never of the strongest constitution and I fear childbearing only weakens me further."

Will's wife of seven years, Madeleine Herondale (nee Benoit) was the daughter of Jacques Benoit, who ran the Institute in Marseilles, France. The relationship began as a mere coincidental visit, a continuation of Will's mission to travel the world, and ended with pregnancy– their firstborn son, James, a perfect miniature of his father in looks if not in manner.

The marriage began as one of coincidence– the boy needed his father and Maddie had fallen hopelessly in love with Will– but around the birth of their fifth child and second daughter, red-haired green-eyed Emma, Will realized that somewhere along the line he had learned to love his wife. They ran the Institute together after the Branwells took over the Institute in Yorkshire (old Starkweather, who had been running it, finally died). It took up a lot of time, and Jem could only guess what the couple did in their spare time, though he presumed it had much to do with producing children.

As if on cue, five children appeared at the grand staircase and came down as fast as they could. "Jem, Jem," the eldest girl cried. She was the spitting image of her mother even at age six, with straight blonde hair and warm brown eyes. She was trailed closely by her older brother, who was calling for her to wait up. The five-year-old twins, Alistair and Thomas, brown-haired and brown-eyed, peeked around either side of Juliet, mischievous grins lighting up their faces.

Lastly, there was tiny Emma, age three, who was frail and often ill with one thing or another. She went right over to Jem and held up her arms in the universal symbol for "pick me up". Jem obeyed; he had a soft spot, as did everyone, for Will's 'genetic miracle', as he called her. Her red-gold curls, dark green eyes, and freckles were so unlike the rest of her family.

"Hello, everyone," Jem smiled. "You've all grown so much since the last time I saw you! Maybe I should come home more often, hm?" Jem ran the Institute back in Shanghai. He had no children of his own, nor a wife. Just a year previously he courted Emily Nightshade, but she had been killed by a demon before they could be married. In his darkest, most bitter moments, he thought it was just as well; he had liked her well enough, and she had loved him, but there was no way he could be expected to give his heart away again.

"Stay," Emma begged. "Don't go."

Jem kissed her temple. "Oh, sweetheart. I'll stay as long as I can, okay?"

Just as she nodded tentatively, the door to the kitchen opened and a tall, muscular man strode in. Power was etched into every line of him, from the strong angles of his face that would have looked delicate on a smaller man to the rippling biceps that flexed under a thin white shirt. A mass of dark curls formed a halo around his face, pale and slightly worn but still beautiful with enormous blue eyes, the color of the night sky in Hell. "What did I tell you," he remarked in a good-natured but authoritative voice, "about crowding visitors? Jem's only just arrived and you're all clustered around him?"

"Will," Jem reprimanded. "You can't blame your children for wanting to see me. I haven't been here in a year." He let Will take his youngest daughter and kiss her fondly before setting her down.

"Shoo," Will said, waving his hands at his children, who giggled but ran off to do the Angel knew what. "James," he murmured then, embracing his _parabatai_, who was trembling. "We knew this wasn't going to be easy."

"It's been ten years to the day and it doesn't hurt any less," he whispered. "I lost her ten years ago today and it could have been yesterday. I can't ever take a wife, or a lover, or anything. It just feels… wrong."

"Emily? I thought she might…"

He shook his head. "She was a lovely girl but I couldn't. I couldn't ever do that again. It wouldn't have been fair, anyway. You know I couldn't love again."

Will shook his head sadly; it hurt so much more than he thought to see his best friend, brother really, so miserable. He knew that every day Jem woke up entirely conscious of the sacrifice that had been made so that he could see the sun, so that he could make plans years in advance, so that he could be independent of the drug. He treasured every day, but the guilt festered in his soul and wouldn't disappear. It had changed him; the carefree, calm Jem Carstairs had been replaced by a quieter, sadder version of himself. He rarely smiled and never laughed. He stopped playing the violin.

"We should go," he said softly. "We still need to make sure the others made it all right."

Jem nodded and followed Will out of the Institute, down the streets and to the small grave under the cherry trees in Hyde Park. It was glamoured to hide it from mortal eyes, but the Shadowhunters knew where to look. It was a small marble stone in the ground, still shining and blank. Jem hadn't known what to write on it, so he put nothing. He thought she might've liked that, the intrigue of an unmarked grave.

Magnus Bane, looking young as ever but much more glittery than the last time Will and Jem had seen him, was waiting with Gabriel Lightwood, who was still the same with ruffled brown hair and curious green eyes that no longer shone with resentment– he and Will and resolved most of their difficulties in the face of mutual loss– though he wore a gold wedding band around his finger. The Daylighter Riley appeared from behind a tree, rubbing the back of his head. He still looked sixteen, all gangly limbs and untamable auburn hair, though the pain in his eyes was greater than any sixteen-year-old's had any right to be.

"The gang's all here," he said with a wry smile and a trace of an accent; ten years of living in London had started to wear away his American tongue. "Is there anything we wanted to say as a group, or just… by ourselves?"

There was a bit of silence. "It's been a lonely ten years," Magnus said finally. The others nodded their agreement. Riley stepped up to the grave first and bent down, murmuring things the rest of the group hadn't the heart to listen in on. Jem thought back to the day he was cured.

_He was so happy. He was saved, he was a live, he could have a whole lifetime with Will at his back and the love of his life at his side. Oh, how he couldn't wait to tell her! Surely she had been worried about him. He had been ill, nearly dead, for three days, and she always worried. She would want to know he was safe._

_The bell rang. Will, wild-eyed and looking horrified, ran for the door, but a bewildered Jem followed close behind. It could be her, couldn't it, since she couldn't come in by herself. He stopped at the foot of the stairs as Will tugged the door open._

_Magnus stumbled in, and she was in his arms, but what she was doing there? Was she hurt? She could walk, so why wasn't she moving? Why was she just lying there in his arms? And he was crying but why, what had happened, was he going to be all right, and why wasn't she moving?_

_Jem heard the story as though from a distance as Magnus quickly explained it to Will. He heard what she had done for him. What she had given up for his cure. He heard himself wail, the brokenhearted sobbing cry of a mother who has lost her child, because there she was, the one who belonged to him, and she was in Magnus's arms and she was wearing all gold and she was beautiful even in the stillness of death, dressed in a wedding dress she would never see herself wear._

_The funeral was the next day. Gabriel Lightwood and his brothers were there, including Michael's wife, and Riley, and Magnus, and the inhabitants of the Institute sans Jessamine. There was even a tall blonde man with all-black eyes who introduced himself as Matthew Renault, her brother._

_When Jem learned that Will knew what was to come, that he let her die, that he didn't stop her, he didn't speak to him for three weeks. He could have done something, Jem shouted, but he didn't, because he apparently didn't know that Jem's life depended on it. Not in the way Magnus proposed. Not the cure. His existence was guaranteed by the white potion in the little glass flask, but his life, his heart and soul and mind, were shattered._

Back in the present, everyone had said what they needed to but Jem. He stepped forward and looked down at the black marble, seeing his own miserable reflection. Tears welled in his eyes as he remembered the orange-blossom scent of her that always clung to his sheets even when she wasn't there, the ringing of her laugh and the brush of her kisses, the bittersweet taste of her mouth and the whispered _I love you_s late at night when there was nothing but starlight and each other.

There were so many things he could have said to her then, no matter where she was, Heaven or reincarnated or any other version of the afterlife. There were many things he _should_ have said, things that might ease his own burden and perhaps allow him to begin to move on. In the end, though, the tears choked him and he only managed one word, one simple word to mutter, and at that moment those five letters, that one word, was the most perfect thing he could have said:

_Belle._


End file.
